The sun was actually out this weekend, so we did many things and drove all over.
On Saturday we went to Home Depot and got implements of barbecue and a push broom so I could clean the porch. We visited a nursery in Solana Beach and got a tomato plant and some flowers. We ate shrimp and crab enchiladas outside at Rubio's. That night I made three highly annoying trips to the video store because every copy of Scary Movie we got on DVD failed to work in our player. Finally I broke down and got the tape, but upon my return Angela forced me to watch Cat Ballou on TCM instead. Now, two days later, I'm still waiting for it to be as funny as she's told me it is all the years we've been married
On Sunday morning we attended services at St. James By The Sea in La Jolla, a beautiful Episcopal church within sight of the Pacific Ocean. We may stay there--I would feel bad about leaving St. Tim's, but this place feels so right and St. Tim's so does not. Obviously we feel more comfortable worshipping with uptight, rich old white people than touchy-feely, rich middle-aged white people. Plus St. James serves Krispy Kreme doughnuts after services.
After church we dropped by Porkyland so I could scope out the place prior to the E2 gathering. It seeemed cool, though I was initially alarmed at the LACK OF AN ACTUAL RESTAURANT. All the seating is outdoors, and is shared with two other restaurants. It's basically a mom-and-pop fast food place in a swanky neighborhood, but I realized that this means we'll bypass that horrible ordeal wherein we all try and divide up the check. Yay!
We finally watched Scary Movie that afternoon. Oy.
We then drove to Brian's and picked up his mountain bike, which is now mine, mine, mine, and means I won't be spending fifty bucks a month to ride the bus to and from work.
So you'd think with all this I would have been happy all weekend long. And yet I wasn't. Nor was I was sad and annoyed the entire time, but often enough to really make me pissed off at myself. I felt cheated, was cheating myself out of enjoying a weekend the likes of which I've been dreaming about for months just because every little thing didn't go my way.
I think the pressure's getting to me. I want to have some philanthropist pay my many debts so I can quit my job and dig ditches and write novels.