0138 — Happy Hour at Spats (Patreon)

Like most men who spent their childhood bored out of their skull while tailing a frugal mother through musty thrift stores and garage sales, I am reflexively cheap about nearly everything. I'm only triggered into buying meat if there's some kind of flashy promotional sign over it; yesterday on a walk I nearly asked a neighbor if they were discarding some decomposing birch logs I could burn this winter. I will buy six jars of juice that are on BOGO even though I don't drink juice. ("What if we have a party?") I'm still aghast that a McDonald's meal now costs more than actual food, and then I'm aghast that I still want to go to McDonald's despite all information in the universe proving this is a terrible idea no matter by which of the thousand avenues you approach it. Life is a long passage of healing from childhood, and money is the girlfriend I'm always afraid will have moved out while I was at work.

Which is why when we were visiting friends in Appleton, Wisconsin last week, and we stopped into Spats "The Tav on the Ave" for happy hour, I made sure to order the full-price cheese curds. Because I am healing, and I want my wife to know I love her. (She's from Wisconsin, so fried dairy is a love language.)

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