A Little Late

In hindsight, I'm wondering why I didn't just have Irene picking me up from home herself in the first place. Saves plenty of time, plenty of effort, and I wouldn't be in here at the back of the bus, fighting the futile fight against the gentle sway of inertia and keeping myself awake.

The thing was, she's a smart girl… the thinking, scheming type 24/7. The thought must have crossed her mind at some point, which must also mean that the fact that I'm still here anyway sticking out like the sorest, fanciest thumb amongst the casual-wearing crowd, she must have ultimately decided against it. 

Why? And why a dinner date, anyway? Since when has our thing in common been our shared love for pint-sized ridiculously overpriced candlelit meals on clothed tables, huh? After my last experience with fancy-schmancy restaurants, I daresay I'm not super keen on a second venture so soon after the last.