I am fantasizing about…
Going out to eat in a restaurant.
Going out to eat in a restaurant…
Before Coronavirus
There are no face masks involved, or social distancing, because there’s no need for that.
Not in BC.
My husband and I park at the restaurant, and walk in. The team member picks up two menus and escorts us to our table.
We’re in San Diego, a city with lots of restaurants on the water.
Always our first choice, and always a good choice.
This restaurant is adjacent to a harbor, and we watch the occasional powerboat, or sailboat under power, arrive and depart.
Sometimes seals make an appearance, so I’m keeping an eye out for them, as well.
The waitperson takes our drink order: chardonnay.
Wine, at lunch?
Hell, yes. It’s my fantasy.
I’m holding a menu in my hand. A real, actual menu, in a real, actual restaurant.
As we peruse our menus, my taste buds start yelling, “That one! Shrimp scampi!”
“No, wait – that one! Pork belly tacos!”
“Or maybe that one! Blackened salmon!”
Yeah.
When I fantasize, it’s in vivid color.
How delightful that my biggest dilemma today is making my meal choice.
We drink, we eat, we talk, we take in in the view.
The other diners do the same.
Ah, the BC days.
I wonder if they’ll ever come again.
Here’s something I don’t wonder about.
I don’t wonder, because I know…
It didn’t have to be this way:
And I know why it’s this way:
I Hate Houseguests 