I was a big ole party pooper tonight. After shamelessly inviting myself to Ewbliette’s Friday night, I showed up, drank a glass of wine, gabbed halfheartedly and whizzed home. Earlier, I was so psyched to get out! I pretty much tossed the baby in the crib with one hand while picking up the car keys with the other.
But the hot drive over made me drowsy, despite the blasting AC and blaring radio. After I arrived, I flopped down on the couch next to an overworked and exhausted Rodeyo. We mindlessly watched a re-run of Shrek on TBS, feeling sleepier by the second. Chuck joined us a few minutes later, enviably chipper. He sat between Rodeyo and me, making pleasant conversation. I perked up when I recognized that his manner of speaking was oddly familiar. He spoke with an uncommon clipped precision. His words were distinctly enunciated (especially the t’s and s’s) and the cadence of his speech strongly resembled–Crispin Glover! Joy!
I’ve run into Chuck about a half dozen times, but this was the first time that I really noticed him. A quiet, bespectacled member of the high IQ crowd (150), Chuck has genuine amber eyes that coordinate unexpectedly with his orange hair, which he wears braided tightly to the nape of his neck. He is lanky, mustachioed and dresses conservatively in chinos and a worn button-down shirts. Upon realizing that I was scrutinizing him, he became embarrassed and flustered. I quickly noted that his ancestors could have been Vikings, and politely moved my focus to the lovely glass of wine Ewbliette brought me.
With wine bottle in hand, Ewbliette and I retired to the back porch. She discussed her work as an accountant at NMSU, including the impending close of the fiscal year, complete with associated deadlines and psychotic co-worker reactions. Naturally, her work has been outrageously draining, and included several hours of additional work earlier this morning and afternoon. Poor tired girl!
Me, well, I was sooo zonked. The baby is teething and I am coping with the psychological effects the dual loss of our television (broken!) and my computer (Tennisfiend decided to host his Russian DVD festival on my computer)! Usually the hub of great conviviality, the back porch turned into a scene from Shaun of the Dead.
So, Ewbliette looked at me and I looked at her and we simultaneously decided to get together later, when we had more energy. Sometimes you just need to breathe the same air as your best friend and then go home and sleep. Ironically, we both perked up as she walked me to my truck, chatting amiably for several minutes. The subject of Chuck came up. She said “You know what surprised me about him? He’s only 21 years old!” To which I replied, “Whaa?!” Maybe it’s the mustache or slightly receding hairline, but I would have sworn he was in his early thirties. Whoa.