I was just cleaning up last night’s dishes and glasses; the Friday Gang were over here last night.
The testament to people’s character is found in the smallest things: there was a tube of Pringles left over, and it had two crisps in the bottom. My friends are too nice to finish the last two crisps, in case anyone else wanted them.
I’m usually not good for this. I’m a food-whore. I’m the guy who says “Are you finished with that?” It must be great to date women: you get your dinner, then some of theirs.
My mum said something to me once about all this several years ago: “You’ll find that grown-ups are generous — because they can be. Young people are cheap because they don’t have any money of their own.” And that has been my experience.
The people in my gang of friends invariably end up being the sort who will divide up the tab equally, or put in more than their fair share. We don’t have any of those creeps who pick all the bills up off the table, pay the exact amount with their bank card, and keep the tip. (Of course, this is Scotland, so there usually isn’t a tip to take.)
Sharing is for children. Sure it’s important to learn, it’s character-building, and blah blah, but… hell, I’ll just buy two. You have yours, I have mine. So it’s kind of generous, kind of selfish.
It’s great being an adult! Stay up until whenever time you like, buy whatever you want, make a living doing something you love, and learn anything in the world because you’re curious about it, rather than studying compulsory topics that are foisted on you. And there’s nobody to say what I’m supposed to do (just the benefits or repercussions of doing things that do or don’t fit with the social compact).
Yay!
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