I go through bursts of hating to eat out. It’s a poor value in that I’m essentially paying for a table and for someone to periodically interrupt the conversation. Joe and I changed tack and for $12.00 we enjoyed about two pounds of chicken strips and a pound of tater tots washed down with some swell apple cider.
Driving home with my arm out the car window holding the champagne-like bottle and drinking it at red lights and modifying my route to drive by as many police stations as possible was my attempt at evening entertainment. There just aren’t enough cops out at 10 PM on Tuesdays.