Last week left me feeling pretty disenchanted with RVA, for a number of personal and professional reasons. One of which I will share with you here because OMG. Remember that retired neighbor couple I banged on about last year? How can you not, I talk about them all the time.
Anyway, last week I was sitting here at my table writing with the windows open and they were outside puttering around in their garden (#usual). I turned my music down because I heard them raise their voices and what do they have to raise their voices about? And he yelled - I mean, yelled, "F*CK YOU!" right to her. RIGHT TO HER. Can you EVEN? I could NOT. Then she walked into the house with a simple "You're rude" which is not funny but is kind of funny, because what a straightforward and honest assessment of his behavior, right?
But then yesterday Sarah and I go to Stellas for dinner and that's lovely and then we go to Postbellum and get drinks for free from a guy we'd only been making fun of 2 seconds earlier and then we go to Balliceaux and have the most fun dancing till 2am! This is the second week in a row I was up dancing till 2am!
On top of that, I ran into some folks from Urban on the dance floor who I always really liked (and who I told repeatedly last night how much I liked them— drunk Megan) and that was awesome. Is there any better feeling of accomplishment than when you move to a new place and finally start to run into people you know?
And this morning, when I was feeling hung as hell, I was able to walk two blocks to 7-11 for a fountain Coke with lots of ice because it is a magical, miracle elixir for hangovers and then I drove to Einstein's Bagels a mile down the street because bagels are the magical, miracle tonic for hangovers. I feel better now, all around.
Richmond isn't my place, this I know for certain, but sometimes it's not so bad.