The high point of my work day was listening to the Elephant Love Medley from Moulin Rouge; the lack of love in the office gave the song an ironic twist that made it all that much more enjoyable to me. Otherwise I was dragging with newfound ferocity. Probably has something to do with attempting to kick my Mountain Dew a day habit, now that the Pepsi/iTunes promotional period is over. I eventually gave up on work early and collapsed at home for three or so hours—only notable because my naps, when I’m healthy, never run longer than two hours.

In the evening I attended a $1 one-hour beginning dance lesson on the Night Club Two Step, and learned very basic moves (and was reminded that I need a stable frame—how could I have forgotten? ::shame::). I didn’t learn what I really wanted to learn, though, which was a smooth way to switch between the basic step and the basic travelling step; the transition is e-double-x-tremely rough unless you have a spiffy move (which I know exists, because I’ve seen others use it).

The dance practice proper was quite a hoot, as Renee and Adam attended for their first time. Renee was gung-ho (her most-repeated quote of the evening: “What type of dance is this?!”), while Adam hugged the wall the entire evening. (I understand how he feels… I spent far too much time hugging the walls not so long ago.) Got to cha-cha with Kristy—I don’t see her much, so it was noteworthy to me—and took a beautiful opportunity to approach from behind, hook Robin’s arm, and drag her out on the dance floor. Danced with Robin for the traditional Last Waltz of the evening, too, where we actually chatted a good deal (though we’ve danced a decent bit together, somehow we never really talked a whole lot); I got her to laugh at my Inflated Work Title of document archivist. (As I explained: this means I watch a scanner to make sure that it doesn’t pick up more than one sheet of paper at a time. It takes a surprising amount of concentration to do well, honestly.)

After saying goodbye to people, I headed to Fred Meyers to pick up Cheap Hairspray. There I ran into Kristy again, who (jokingly) accused me of stalking her (despite the fact that I stayed at the practice session the entire time, and she cut out early).

After selecting a specific brand of Cheap Hairspray, I began to make my way to the checkout—and ran into Jimmy and his friend (I know both of ’em from dances—and saw them both at the practice session—but have never caught the other’s name). Jimmy’s friend then accused me being a stalker, and I complained about being repeatedly and falsely accused of that crime. Jimmy then punned that I worked at Fred Meyers stocking shelves (get it? Stalker/stocker!), and his friend fake-punched Jimmy in the face for his bad joke. I found it hilarious.

I’m glad I stuck with dancing: I’ve made some friends through it, and it’s given me something social to do now that I’ve graduated—and the rejuvenation I feel afterwards is something I’ve been missing for a good, long time.