Ah. That's better.
We are back home after a lovely partial evening at Casino Nova Scotia.
It wasn't the plan, though.
The plan was for us both to go to Historic Properties after work, there to see the place all lit up nice and pretty. But, alas, there was no place to park downtown, so we drove further up Lower Water Street and parked at Casino Nova Scotia. We were both peckish, so after we spent some money at the slots (I lost 10 bucks, while Patricia lost 20), we made our way over to the Trapeze restaurant, in the casino.
The prime rib was excellent, and was 3 dollars off with a players card. Plus, you got a 10 dollar voucher toward more gambling in the casino afterward, so you could look at the meal as costing 15 dollars instead of 25, instead of 28. It came with Yorkshire pudding, one good size dollop of garlic mashed potatoes, butter nut squash, and a few other veggies. I had water and a virgin Caesar to drink, while Patricia had water and a Grinch (a sweet green drink with some kind of liquor in it that she could not finish because it was too sweet and she is already sweet enough, thank you very much.)
After the dinner, I got these pics taken by the restaurant's Christmas tree.
We decided to use the 10 dollars that had been rebated to us. We returned to the self-same slot machines that had robbed us earlier. I lost that ten dollars as well, but since it was not really my money, kinda sorta, I didn't feel badly. Meanwhile, Patricia made an additional 10 dollars, so it was kinda sorta like not losing the 20 dollars she had lost earlier in the evening. She was pleased.
The parking was paid for for another 30 minutes or so, but I reckoned that the walk from the casino to Historic Properties might be too much for us, so I opted to leave the parking space at the casino and try our luck getting a space downtown.
Ha. The fool, me.
We drove around for a good 30 minutes, and no spaces were available. Only when we started on the way home did Patricia turn to me and ask why the hell I had given up that nice space when it would only have cost us a little more to park there a bit longer, go to the historic properties, and then trudge back to the car? The time we had spent fruitlessly searching for a parking space would have been a good chunk toward that time we could have spent having fun at the historic properties.
Have you ever been asked a question that is so logical, so laden with good reasoning and sound thinking, that there is literally no valid response you can give that doesn't make you look like a dolt for even attempting to respond? You can say nothing; you cannot grunt or fart or blink; you cannot snort or sneeze or scratch; there is not one blessed thing you can do to respond to that question, that most simple question. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
We drove home in silence, with Patricia's baleful eye fixed on me with a look of disappointment, frustration, pity and contempt.
I am down in my home office. Patricia is in the living room upstairs. I threw some jeans in the washing machine in the laundry room next door. And I am a little afraid to go upstairs for fear of saying or doing something else that would only reinforce Patricia's perception of me at the moment. Perhaps there is an errant booger hanging off my nose, or the half-Windsor knot on this tie is at best a 33% Windsor, or maybe Newbie cooked something really nifty for dinner and wants to show me up. I am sure it will be something.
It always is.
See you tomorrow.
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