I figured this meant I had the morning to look for work and do some more work, then we'd hop down to San Jose to pick up the teeth, up to Berkeley to drop them off, and then we'd be in town for a nice dinner. I figure my finances are about to go to hell, so I wanted One Last Nice Meal, and I had the place picked out -- the Cafe Upstairs at Chez Panisse. We're not just talking food; we're talking food that's artwork.
Things didn't go as planned. For starters, we fought over his moving my wallet. Then he announces to me he'd promised his mother we'd be at his folks' place by 1pm. He makes this announcement at 12:40pm while I'm on the phone with my accountant (a very important call). He threatens to bolt out of the house, thus killing what was supposed to be a romantic dinner, while I'm on the phone, and the call ends quickly and prematurely.
We get to his folks' house, get the teeth, and we're off to Berkeley -- but not after we (finally) get something to eat. He directs me to the nearest McDonald's (figures). I notice a "Panda Express" in the same shopping center and suggest that instead, figuring it'd be faster. He reminds me of my luck with Chinese food and mushrooms, so we go to McD's -- and wait -- and wait -- and wait. Our order was sitting on the counter for several minutes before we noticed (they put it in the wrong place) and Warren spoke up. My blood sugar was temporarily normalized. Unfortunately, fast food doesn't last with me; I'm hungry again in half an hour. Yuck.
I shlep us to Berkeley trying to take what is obviously the fastest route despite Warren's protests. He wants to take the Bay Bridge even though all the traffic reports say traffic is at a standstill getting off the bridge. I want to take the fastest roads possible, avoiding all accidents. We compromise and I take the slower of the two bridges on the peninsula intead of the much faster and direct route up the highway.
Every time I change lanes Warren complains. I do not like being behind stopped traffic, especially when traffic is zipping by me in all the other lanes. Somehow Warren doesn't grok this. Eventually I get us there -- at 3:45pm. From Warren's standpoint we're late because he decided this morning he'd wanted to go to San Francisco this afternoon after dropping off the teeth to drop in on the non-health-plan neurosurgeon. From my standpoint we're an hour and 15 minutes early.
To kill time we visited a used office furniture outlet. There was a really cute Viszla (sp?) named Sunny there; she kept wanting to sniff my crotch. Yup, this was a Berkeley dog. :-)
We then argued over where to go next. I wanted to check out some of the other stores in the neighborhood; Warren wanted to see a movie. We went to the nearest two theatres we knew of. Chicago was playing at the first theatre, but he didn't want to see that. In the other theatre the next film playing was Matrix II, but we'd have to wait till 5pm for it to start. Instead, we opted to use the bathrooms at the bookstore next door and wound up browsing books for a few minutes.
We then decided we needed to eat. Warren suggested Fuddrucker's (a burger chain); I snapped, "NO!" On Monday Warren's mother had thrown a hissyfit, forcing us to go from San Francisco to Oakland because she'd only eat at one place (Emil Villa's Hic'ry Pit -- not exactly "gormay kweezeen"). My body spent Tuesday recovering from the meal I had there (it didn't settle well), and I was not going to torture myself with a burger laying on my stomach all night.
Warren then let me drive us to the cafe. We found parking about a block away in front of another place called Saul's. We walked to the Chez Panisse facility and looked at the menu. Warren was zeroing out on the entrees. There was a quail that looked good to me, but the other entrees were a pasta with mushrooms, lamb (Warren doesn't like lamb unless you disguise it), the quail (at which point Warren annouced, "I don't eat quail."), and some kind of pizza with prosciutto, but Warren didn't want "bread for dinner." So much for my romantic evening.
We instead went to Saul's, where he had a meat loaf sandwich and I had lox, onions, and eggs. The dinner set much better with me than the fish and chips I'd had two days earlier at Emil Villa's -- except for one problem.
I have food sensitivites beyond my expletive-deleted mushroom allergy. To give you an idea of how I have to ponder a menu:
- Salmon with cherry tomatoes -- oops, those will make my stomach hurt.
- Ahi with salsa, rice, and vegetables -- oh wait, the vegetable is green beans, and I'm allergic to that.
- Lox, onions, and eggs -- comes with a latke and a bagel -- sounds safe.
I made the mistake of putting sour cream on the latke. Oops. I was in the bathroom for something like 15 minutes with liquid poo. I then insisted upon walking around a nearby grocery store just to let the rest of the ick settle so I could get rid of it for the trip home (one hour in the car). Eventually I spent another 20 minutes spewing liquid.
Instead of getting Warren back to his folks' house so he could pick up his car, we drove back to my house. I now am saddled with getting up early tomorrow when I can't sleep right now because my intestines are on fire. I'm also getting more and more depressed because I'm being taken away from working and getting work -- and having to recover from early wake-up calls between. :-(