Last night

I tried to go to some opening in the art district but my info turned out to be bogus. I was told there would be an opening at a place called SWK, near Wells and Superior. Turns out SWK stands for Superior Wells Kitchen. It's a high-brow Japanese restaurant. A peek inside the front windows confirmed that there was art on the walls, but it also confirmed that, though there were a few patrons, there was certainly no party going on.

We rendez-vous'ed with a gaggle of Rick's friends who had just crashed an architectual firm's party in the vicinity. They prompted us to do it to. We took the elevator up to the 6th floor, endured the questioning looks of the people there, and allowed the doors to close again. We felt a bit silly. Rick felt he might have been a bit more emboldened had he had more to drink than the single beer he ingested at my shop when he'd picked me up less than an hour earlier.

The friends were all pretty soused. It was fun and charming to watch. We found a half-bag of diapers in a newspaper box. Then had a fashion show rotating places to wear the diapers, leg, neck, head, etc. More fun. On the bus, we encountered a young mother who asked us where we'd gotten them and we gave them up to her. She was grateful and we felt good that they'd found a better purpose than silly fashion.

Two bars later it was time for me to get home and walk Racecar. There were some hijinks in this period, but I don't think I'll get into it right now.

This morning I dreamed.