I am not a big fan of change. I can deal with it alright, but I'd rather things and people not move around. Please leave my big fluffy chair where I put it, there is no need to keep rearranging the furniture. Always put the box of cereal back in the same place after you use it, and for that matter never, ever lose my favorite spoon, the one I eat my cereal with. Of course Mark loves to change things. My big fluffy chair is where it is now, not because I wanted it there, but because that's where Mark put it. The cereal box keeps popping up in different places. It's like some kind of Easter egg hunt every morning. And that favorite spoon that I had for twenty years? It disappeared a little over fifteen years ago, one week after Mark moved in with me. Well now I find out that my favorite bar, the place I have been going to for five years, is moving. I don't like where they are moving it to. It's going to be on an even busier street, in another town, and it is going to be just beyond the reasonable walking distance from my house. Not that I walk to the place now, it's just that I like to think I can. This now means that I will have to find a new favorite bar, with a new favorite bartender.
It's a little like breaking up with a boyfriend. We've become accustomed to each other, and I feel comfortable with the relationship. I walk in and my bartender, Evan, is already making my drink. I know where to sit, where the best air-conditioning is, and which drunken assholes to not make eye contact with. I have already started thinking about which bar I will go to, and have eliminated the old man bar across from my present drinking establishment. I won't go to the 'bear' bar down the street because those guys are just unappetizing with all that body hair and body odor. I also don't think the lesbian bar would work out, although I could put on the Alicia wig, and falsies. Oh well, I have until January to figure this out.