Friday Night Lights

Why is it so easy to spend money?  Why is it so easy to spend money I clearly don't have?  Why am I sitting here in Barnes & Noble on a Friday night, eating Cheesecake Factory Neopolitan (or as I used to call it, Napoleon) Cheesecake and drinking a Caramel Frappucino (both bought with money I don't have)?  Why am I 33 and single, with no prospects to speak of, and getting more action from my dog than I have from anyone else in the past several months?  Why do I drive a car with power nothing and a muffler that currently resides in my back seat?  Why does my dog consistently take care of business on my bedroom floor, five seconds after coming inside?  Why do I get excited about all the Back-to-School events even though I'm not going back to school?  Why does Rice Pudding taste better than vegetables?  Why isn't Rice Pudding considered a vegetable?  Why are we starting to replace actual speech with text abbreviations? idk...

These and many other important questions plague me as I sit here among the Friday Night Crew at B & N.  To my right sits a sketchy Burlingtonite; we recognize each other.  He's often perched outside B & N, and he usually asks me for money for coffee as I pass.  One time he said, "Hey, loser, got a quarter?"  I kid you not -- those were his exact words.  I did not give him a quarter.  Anyway, he's chosen to sit inside on this fine Friday night, so currently he's at the table to my right sipping a latte very slowly.  Across the cafe is a table full of people I can only assume escaped from a local half-way house or insane asylum.  Yes, this is judging a book by its cover (hah!  I'm in a bookstore!), but in this case I'm sure it's appropriate.  They all have heavy coats and woolen hats on and, this being the summer and all, that might normally be enough.  But this is Burlington, where half the people wear winterwear all year long, so that won't do it.  Clue #2:  two of them are playing some kind of mystical game of "push the napkin," wherein they methodically push a pile of napkins around the perimeter of the rectangle table.  Exhilarating, I know.  Here's the sad thing:  I'm actually thinking, I wonder if they'd let me play.  

Here's how I know I've hit Rock Bottom.  I will supply for you a transcript of my thoughts:  damn, that asiago pretzel looks good.  Probably should've gotten that instead of the cheesecake.  It's healthier -- less sugar and all.  Maybe I'll get one now, in addition to my cheesecake.  Oh, but I spent my last dollar on the cheesecake.  Literally.  Wonder if she's going to finish hers...should I ask?  Nah, I'll just wait till she leaves, then go over there and just take what's left.  But what if she throws it away before then?  Look at her, she's just sitting there knitting, and that yummy pretzel's just out there, on the table, getting neglected...

And now you know what Rock Bottom really looks like.  No, wait -- let me add my recent realization about the reason for my being here, in this store, tonight:  it's the only place in Burlington, besides my own house, where I can go and be sure my ex won't be there.  The ex doesn't read.

Now, about that pretzel...