The recent weekend was pretty full, socially speaking. Events planned for each of the three weekend nights, it was kinda nice to have a stacked weekend for the first time in a while.
But it was also nice that the weekend started out with a big chunk of quiet time, a whole lounge day in fact.
After the joy of my birthday, I had much of Saturday to myself. Was nice, I actually managed to get some sleep—one of the things I hate about colds, no matter how severe, is they usually completely muck up my sleep schedule, and this relatively minor one I’ve had the last week or so is no exception. I was meeting Katharine and Matt for dinner Saturday night, but we had no specific plans for time, so I relished the day in grubbies and lounged about the house.
We had chosen Macaroni Grill in Alderwood Mall for dinner, despite the possible TRAFFIC HELL of the holiday shopping season. Turned out we needn’t have worried—Katharine and I arrived at the mall parking lot at 18:30 and had found parking by 18:32, unheard of in previous holiday-time excursions to the mall area. And the restaurant quoted us a 30-minute wait time but we found a bar table in about 2 minutes flat as well, it as really our night.
Matt met us about half an hour later and his roommate Liz joined us as well, a pleasant dinner over the next few hours. We left the restaurant but Matt and I weren’t tired yet so we stopped by McMenamins in Mill Creek for another drink, and the conversation stretched out another couple hours—I didn’t get home until nearly 02:00, which meant plans for laundry on Sunday morning weren’t far off.
My alarm went off at 07:00 Sunday, felt much sooner than five hours since I’d arrived home, and Julie Anne and I trekked up the hill to do our combined 10 loads of laundry from the month since we’d last been there. This was only the start of a busy Sunday, however; we also were meeting Katharine at 11:00 for breakfast, after which we would be helping her pack up her kitchen and breakable possessions for her upcoming relocation to a different apartment in her complex due to an ADA-compliance project her property management company is foisting on the first-floor apartments. Silliness abounding, but it gave us a fully booked Sunday.
The laundry conspired to delay us, however. One of Julie Anne’s machines counted down from 33 minutes to 22 and stuck there for an hour or so, which meant we didn’t leave for Katharine’s until nearly 11:30.
Our usual route to Bothell from our neighborhood is down Ward Place to Taylor Ave, down Taylor to Mercer, and along Mercer to the I-5 northbound on-ramp. Sunday, however, when we arrived at the Ward Place/Taylor Ave/Aloha St intersection, we saw a cyclist down in the road and traffic slowing rapidly to get around her. The car in front of us pulled around the corner to Aloha and stopped, and I pulled in front of the cyclist and put on my hazards to slow traffic coming down the hill about the same time a couple in their small SUV pulled up behind the biker and did the same hazards-on bit.
The girl on the bike had been riding from a house-sitting gig atop Queen Anne to her job in West Seattle when her bike just went out from under her on the slick pavement. She was down before she even knew what was happening; when we got out of the car, she was cradling her right knee and rocking slightly, looking around in obvious shock. Her bike lay on the ground in front of her, the handlebars twisted grossly out of alignment with the front wheel.
The four of us gathered around her with a small first-aid kit to help her clean her cuts and scrapes—rather a nasty-looking road rash on her right knee, a couple of cuts on both hands and on her face, and a smaller scrape on her right forearm. She told us how when she first went down, some jackass driver behind her actually HONKED AT HER and whipped around her, and we arrived on the scene in time to see a few cars drive around without stopping.
People can be SUCH assholes.
Anyway, she wasn’t seriously injured, more shocked than anything. We straightened her handelbars easily enough but she was in no shape to continue her ride to work, with blood caked on her face and hands and her riding shorts shredded over the scraped knee, so Julie Anne and I put her bike in my car and we ran her up the hill to the house she was watching so she could call her dad and get more first aid.
A good deed done, and only a slight delay added to the packing and such for Katharine’s move. That only took four hours, in fact, much less time than we thought we’d need to pack up the kitchen cabinets and drawers and then carefully wrap and pack Katharine’s roughly 3.2 million small breakable knick-knacks.
Sunday night has been quiet at home, another lounging exercise for me, the winding down of a fun weekend before the school week started.
How was your weekend?