Welcome to the 6th floor. Today's contributors are: Tabitha, Frank
Subject: Lunch at the cafe
Frank and I are often the only two that are home during the day. Sara has a regular nine to five job and the other three work enough that it's rare to find one of them home in the afternoon. Often Frank and me end up looking for food at around the same time most days although often for different meals. We've made a semi-regular habit of choosing one day of the week to get lunch out, rather than scrounging for leftovers in the fridge. At first I was reluctant, but Frank is very generous and we struck a deal. If he's had a rough week of poker, we choose somewhere cheap to eat; if he's done well, then he pays for both of us.
Everybody's always so busy; it's nice to have a regular thing going on. Sometimes, mainly because of the weird hours I often keep, Friday night comes and I realize I haven't even talked to anybody outside of a computer all week. Some of the others do join us if they're around, but it doesn't happen often. Tabitha and me get along pretty well so it's nice to have some time to just chat without distractions or other commitments getting in the way. Today we ate at a small cafe around the corner from the apartment. We both just wanted some simple food with some fries.
“So, What is new with you Tab? How's Robert?”
“Actually we broke up. It just wasn't working out. We actually broke up the day after our Anniversary party.”
“I'd wondered why he left early with everyone else. You okay with it?”
“Yeah. I'm fine. We'd only been dating a couple of weeks anyway. He was pretty boring all around. So, to change the subject, you planning any crazy trips?”
“Depends on what you call crazy now doesn't it? Would a trip even count as a crazy one if I planned it all out in advance?“
“I guess planned trips are never as crazy as the spontaneous ones, but either way you'll let me know right?”
“And ruin the surprise? Never! I don't have anything in the works though. I haven't felt like driving down to AC or up to Foxwoods. Maybe I'll take a flight out to Vegas one of these days.“
“Wish I could take trips like that. It's a shame all my professors seem to want me in class. Also, pleading at the airline counters at the airport hasn't gotten me a free flight yet.”
“You could always whore yourself out. Especially in Las Vegas.”
“There's a career move, drop out of grad school, move to Vegas, and pay off the debt by becoming a stripper. My parents would be so proud.”
“Aren't they always telling you to get out there and meet new people?”
“That's just because they don't like you guys and think I could find better friends. Besides, I doubt prostitution is what they had in mind.”
“Your parents don't like us? Why not?”
“My mother says I need to hang out with more people with smart jobs, and that you're all degenerates with AIDS. She thinks my life is exactly like Rent.”
“Smart jobs? Does she want us all to be doctors and lawyers? Ann's going to be a writer, doesn't that count? Oh, wasn't one of the characters in Rent a writer? I guess Ann doesn't count either.”
“Nope. It's all right though, this way they won't visit me. Which means they'll be like your parents, who never visit either.”
“They feel the same, that I don't have a real career. Probably more so, since my parents actually kicked me out of the house when I told them I was playing poker for a living. I made as much last year as my mother did, but that doesn't matter to them. What's with Sara's parents? They visit all the time and take her to dinner and love her no matter what. Did she win the parent lottery when I was looking?”
“She must have. She does have the most normal career of any of us though. Ann's parents are pretty cool too, even though she's basically working a dead-end job. They seem to have faith in her writing ability. Not that I blame them for that, she really is a good writer.”
“I keep meaning to read that last thing she wrote, but I don't even read the newspaper. I rarely even read the blog, but I feel I owe it to her to at least try to post on it once in a while. But I always try to make someone else write or transcribe what needs to be said.”
We finished up lunch and headed home after that. I actually had a class to get to in a bit. Frank was supposed to clean the kitchen and run the dishwasher, but when I got back from class Billy was home scrubbing molasses off the counter.