|This is the last time we went bowling together. It was 2013, and I banged up my finger in a pretty intense game of air hockey. As you can see, this injury left me no choice but to bowl like a child.|
A few months ago I got a babysitter, we planned a very fancy night out, and then everything went wrong. Traffic was apocalyptic so we decided not to drive up to the De Young in San Francisco, then we got derailed trying to buy some theater tickets for a different night out, and then the bowling ally we impromptu visited was “full.” After almost an hour of driving around, Chris and I just went grocery shopping.
For a few minutes I was frustrated that nothing went right, but then going to Trader Joe’s felt like old times: just two kids, running errands together, and Chris commented that grocery shopping together on a Friday night felt luxurious.
At some point in college I learned that front lawns used to be a symbol of luxury. Because land was a source of income, having a front lawn that produced absolutely no strawberries, no grains, no grazing for livestock, said that you already had so much money, you could basically be wasteful. “You see this plot of land in front of my house? I DON’T EVEN NEED THIS.”
And I guess that’s what I’m doing now, being ostentatious about our night. We already had so much that we DIDN’T EVEN NEED to go to bowling. What a luxury.