Christmas Pub Crawl

Last year's Crawl

Last night was the annual Christmas Crazy Hat Pub Crawl that's organized by a friend. I look forward to this fun evening from one year to the next. It's a chance to make merry, relax with friends, and renew acquaintances. There were six or seven places on the agenda, with the evening due to culminate at the Vet's Club for food, games, and camaraderie.

My dear husband had a bit of a rough late afternoon with sundowning, but I dolled myself up and we donned our party hats anyway. I prepared a plate of Christmas cookies, and off we went. I hoped rather than believed for the best, and he settled down while we drove downtown. I breathed a sigh of relief. Hope springs eternal.

I was so looking forward to the crawl! We went to the first stop and waited for the group to arrive. It was probably the first time in my life I've been early for something. We ordered beverages. I tried to explain the situation to the gentleman sitting next to my husband trying to make conversation, but he paid no mind and proceeded to tell us about his lonely and miserable existence. Okay, then. I'm used to this kind of thing, so I took it in stride. He was encouraged and feeling better by the time my husband abruptly stood up and said, "Let's go!"

I do understand that my husband thinks it's time to go if his beverage is gone, even if I haven't finished mine yet or even started it. Yes, this is irritating to me, but I'm getting used to it. Of course, just as I get used to something, it changes. Anyway, I didn't want a scene to ensue, so we wished everyone well and walked to the next stop, about a block up the street in the crisp December air.

I discerned that my husband had to use the restroom (I'm getting pretty good at reading his body language), so I stood outside the door in case I was needed. And here he came, highly irritated, unable to fasten his jeans because he was trying to tuck in his t-shirt, shirt, a winter sweater, and his sweatshirt. Good thing I was close by. There was nobody else in the restroom, and I was able to coax him right back through the door instead of into the dining area. Disaster averted. But naturally a gentleman walked in just as I was zipping up my husband's pants. I can't imagine what he must have thought, but we all had a good laugh, which is a good thing. I needed one.

We joined our friends in the dining room, but my husband just wasn't interested. "Come on! Let's go," he demanded as I tried to make small talk. He seemed impatient, edgy, fidgety, agitated, and disoriented. He wanted to go home. Rather than trying to make the best of things, carrying on with the crawl in the hope that things would get better, I decided to call it a night. Wisdom is the better part of valor, they say. Shortest pub crawl ever.

It's sad to realize that evenings out, though they have been very difficult for a long time, are now probably a thing of the past. Just like that. Another loss in an endless string of losses, another disappointment in an endless string of disappointments. I'm trying to think of something redemptive to say, but I can't think of anything, so...sigh.