Thank god it's done. Thank god I'm done with classes for this semster.
Speaking of class, today was the last one, of course, and we had to fill out those evaluations on the professor. Every other class I've taken, they've done that at the end of the class. She gave hers out at the beginning of class, after collecting our final papers, and said, "I'll be back in 15 minutes. Please finish up by then."
I said, "I need to see how you're going to perform today in order to fill this out."
She really did come back after 15 minutes, and proceeded to give a full lecture. I know most people were thinking, "What's the point?"
I left the class singing "School's Out for Summer" in my head. Actually, not so much, since I'm taking a summer course.
Robert arrived at around 6:30, and we began our trek around the city for dinner.
I had a hankering for a salad bar, so we went to the Golden Corral in Cary, where it turned out you could only get the "Mega Bar," and not just a salad bar. I really only wanted to eat a salad, and wasn't going to pay $9.95 to do it.
We rode by Bear Rock Cafe, nearby, but Robert spotted too many kids in there, so we blew that off.
We ended up at Dakota Grill, where I did indeed get my salad -- the Grilled Chicken Salad.
This mere child was working the cash register, and evidently, she was new.
When I gave her my order, she did that deal with her search finger going in circles over the gazillion buttons available on the keypad.
"How do I ring up a salad," she asks to the side to someone behind the wall in the kitchen area.
"Press the button marked 'salad,'" came the response.
Later on, I went back for an ice cream cone.
More hovering. Again, to the phantom in the kitchen, "How do I ring up a small ice cream cone?"
"Press the ice cream button," came the aside.
We worked on this week's Indy Crossword puzzle before heading out for dancing at around 8:50.
It turned out to be quite a festive night of dancing.
Robert and I had a wonderful waltz, to celebrate a good grade, and in anticipation of our four-year anniversary tomorrow.
Once home, he peppered the hell out of my snapper. So to speak. No actual snapper were hurt in the process.