rickroyal

Friday night my parents and I took a break from killing ourselves on the house and went out to this nice little Italian place that I haven't been to since, I think, sometime before the Christmas. We did, of course, forget to bring our own wine, and the horse raddish, and, hey, it looks as though they've stopped stocking steak sauce, so add that to the list. Still, it was a good meal, and we brought some nice suprises home for the animals.

But.

What sticks in my head is the waitress. She wouldn't stop touching me. And, unfortunately, I really wanted her to stop touching me. I could've politely said something the first time she put her hand on my shoulder, but I didn't. I have this thing about pissing off people who serve me food; I'm afraid to do it. Knowing what a pissed off waiter(ess) can do to your food before s/he brings it makes me wary of making my server mad. So, I let it go when she touched my shoulder, leaned against me, and brushed herself against my back every time she passed.

It seems as though there's only two weeks left of classes. More than a little shocked that the time has slipped away so quickly. But, of course, since I was not looking forward to the end of the semester, it came faster than usual. Today I have to finish up (heh, start) the editing on my drafts to turn in on Tuesday, and have to cobble together the final project in my other class. And then it's dental work (hold me), windows (I can deal), and possibly a summer job (feh). Why can't I be in school year round?