“You know what? We have our appointments in the morning, so do you just want to do Date Day instead, so we don’t have to drive out into town twice?” Lynnette asked Friday night. It’s not so much that romance is dead; it’s only that practicality is super-alive and ultra-well.
Lynnette and I had check-ups in the morning, and what a miserable way to start the day. I can’t stand needles, but I also can’t look away from them when vials of my dark red blood are being stolen from me. I expect to be getting a call from the doctor’s office on Monday during which the assistant will try to find a polite, passive-aggressive way to ask why there is bacon grease in my blood. I suppose I will feign shock and respond with a combination of answers like “That’s preposterous!” “How dare you!” “Do you know who I am?” “I have a blog!” and “Don’t tell my wife.”
We ate lunch at Cocina in Kakaako. Generally, Taco Bell is about as Mexican as Lynnette gets, but yesterday she made an exception. Maybe Cocina had her at “fried avocado.” We ordered chips and salsa, that fried avocado, and a taco each. It was a great meal made better by Mexican Coke, straight from the cartel. Somehow – magically – we didn’t spend our entire meal talking about Madison (at the zoo with Lynnette’s parents). Again, I suppose the reason for that was practical: we were trying to figure out what to do with the rest of our date day, in between bites of food and exclamations of how good the food was.
After a little deliberation, we decided to catch Gone Girl at the Ward Theaters. We had over an hour before the 2:15 start time, so we parked in the large lot (we needed the shade because Lynnette bought veggies from the farmers’ market at Ward Warehouse) and went to browse Nordstrom Rack to kill some time. Would it surprise you at all to learn that we never made it to Gone Girl? No, right? K, good.
There was a large red sign outside the entry to Nordstrom Rack. “Oooh, clear the rack,” Lynnette read, and that was all she wrote. Lynnette and I ended up scouring the Rack for 45 minutes before I even looked back at my watch. When I had secured a few diamonds in the rough, I found Lynnette in the women’s shoe section. “We don’t have to do the movie,” I said. “Really?” Lynnette said, not looking up from her feet. “Yeah, it’s already 1:35,” I said. “Oh,” she said, not looking up from her feet.
I am not surprised. You can’t just wave a sale in front of Lynnette and me and expect us to catch a movie an hour later. The laws of physics simply won’t allow it. Romance is overrated, especially when juxtaposed with new markdowns.