Chapter Eight
On Friday, after finishing a rather lengthy copyedit for a historical novel that required much fact checking I’m tired behind my eyes and want nothing more than to flop on the sofa, watch some delightfully mindless TV and switch off my brain.
I email Tiago in case he’s waiting on my decision.
Dinner with an animated Tiago would require a level of energy I do not have.
And fine, I’ll admit, the idea of dining alone feels too intimate with someone I barely know.
Greetings, Tiago,
I’m unable to accept your dinner invitation this weekend as my social battery is depleted after an intense bout of work.
There was also a surprise family birthday party that required all my energy to attend.
I’m sure you can relate, being Portuguese and likely having far too many cousins like I do.
Why these parties last for such an inordinate amount of time is the question that no one is willing to answer.
Yet, I persist in asking. Why isn’t one hour time enough to eat and socialise?
But I digress. If you’d like to dine together next week, I may be interested.
It will depend on a range of mitigating factors.
Viviane.
Before I’ve had the chance to lean back in my chair and stretch my arms, back stiff from too long at my desk, my email lights up with a reply.
Hey Viviane,
Totally understandable. Thank you for letting me know that this weekend is out.
We can schedule ahead for next week, if you like?
Even the week after? Or just wait and see in case those mitigating factors pop up?
As for the drawn-out family events, I hear you!
I have my cousin’s engagement party on Sunday – I’m bracing myself for the bombardment of questions about why I still ‘haven’t settled down with a nice Portuguese girl’ and when I’ll ‘stop playing on the computer and get a real job’.
Fun times! At least we have book club to look forward to next week!
I hope you enjoy the weekend,
Tiago.