Sometimes, we just need to get out of the house, go to a bar—look at each other over a table.
Honestly, it’s that simple. Remove the regular comforts (trappings) of home—the news playing idly in the background, magazines, books, open laptops, Eli. We don’t go out for the reasons most people go out; we’re actually less busy when we’re out than when we stay at home. Whoever said marriage is hard obviously doesn’t like draft beer.
We don’t really need to implement ‘no phone’ rules since the only people we ever really text are one another.
We hopped from Desperate Annie’s to Gaffney’s, where we stood outside the fence and watched the band without even going inside. I don’t think we’ve ever had a better time involving Gaffney’s, to be honest. Wrapped it up at Irish Times on the rooftop. Perfection.
[Continuing my strict protest against ‘going out’ tops. They must be eliminated. Come on, people, who’s with me?]
Although, the best part about going out might be coming home to this face:
Happy weekend, crayers.
[The Radio Dept, “Domestic Scene”]