A late dinner

It’s February school vacation week. The kids are with their dad for two days, and I’m working as many hours as possible so that I can be home with them on Thursday and Friday. I left the office at 8 and stopped home to get PUre Luck, and off we went to Applebee’s, that nice little place up the road where we so often eat with the kids.

So there we were, just an ordinary couple waiting for our dinner and reviewing the Scrabble calendar pages I brought from church in my pocket–okay, I’ll grant that is probably not ordinary, but it’s who we are.

As I was saying, there we were, calm and law-abiding, not bothering anyone, when from over my shoulder I heard a burst of profanity followed by the comment, “That woman is looking at me.” Honey, not this woman! No way was I turning my head!

The rest of our meal was spent listening to a discussion about how many more drinks the loud gal could afford to buy. “If her budget were as big as her butt,” remarked one of her companions, “she’d be rich!”

Oh, so charming. I was visibly uncomfortable, not because I never say a bad word. Pure Luck just started smiling, and then he burst out laughing. I thought he could see something going on at their table, but when we got in the car he said he was laughing at me! Old meanie.

I was then treated to a lecture on how “the People of the Land” live. Real people swear, according to my husband, especially what he calls “the Proles.” He says he should know, since he is one. Perhaps the Patricians don’t use such crude language. Perhaps all those theatre people you know don’t speak that way, he says–and then I burst out laughing.

The things he doesn’t know…

Anyway, I don’t think we’ll go to Applebee’s after 8 again anytime soon.