It's raining when I leave work which at first puts me in an even worse mood than I was in, but then I start to walk in it and it's so clean and pure, it falls on my head and symbolically washes away all my stresses so I'm just in such a great mood by the time I get to the club.
The band's already started when I arrive. Deb and Fran are over at the bar engaging in what seems to be some sort of innocuous conversation. Barb and Aaron are over on the sofas, talking loudly and gesturing at each other to punctuate statements, and boy, that doesn't look good at all so I steer clear of that. I worm my way through the small crowd buttressing themselves against the stage, catch Eric's eye from front stage right. The song ends and he walks to the edge of the stage, shakes my hand.
"How you doing?" he asks.
"Glad you could make it."
"I fuckin' love Creamed Corn, man. I'm not going to miss it."
Another band member says into the mike, "Whenever you're done networking, Eric, we're, uh, you know, ready to play the next fuckin' song."
Eric laughs. "I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah, see you."
Hmm. Huh. I walk to the bar, order a martini, take it and go sit down on the sofa farthest from Barb. Sit and drink. Ruminate. Watch Deb and Fran talk. Ruminate some more.