Last night I was sick of sitting around the house doing nothing, so I got dressed to go up to Panera bread and work on nothing in particular (basically use the free internet to kill time). In my hopes of striking some chord of understand with my readers, I am divulging the seemingly pathetic confession that I actually got somewhat dressed up to go to Panera Bread for no particular reason. If that isn’t pathetic enough, I was soon forced into an even more embarrassing situation as I drove into their parking lot and realized that Panera Bread closes very early on Sunday night. So now I have absolutely nothing to do, and I’m hungry and dressed quite nicely for no reason. I ran through the drive-through at Arby’s and went back home. This is a very good example of 2 interesting facts. First, it really sucks to be living in a small town when there is nothing to do. Secondly, as some doctors have suggested, Sunday night is the most depressing and anxious time of the week. Doctors have suggested that the pressures of starting a new week become reality sometime mid-day through Sunday, and that people become stressed, anxious, or simply depressed at the thought of going to work or school in the morning.

This is why a very small social gathering that was embraced in Tallahassee should be praised for its brilliance. The weekly Sunday night dinners that were held at the Schley in Tallahassee were by far the most successful therapy that any doctor could hope for. At the end of our week, a small group of 6 or 7 close friends would get together, cook dinner, and share our most enjoyable and forgettable moments of the week. We sat around a second-hand table that was too small to hold all of us. The plates were a combination of 4 or 5 different sets of dishes, and we barely had enough $9.95 Wal-Mart silverware to go around. We fixed the dinner in a dimly lit kitchen, and cooked the meal in an oven that was made in the 1800s. The house was not quite what one would call extravagant, complete with wood paneling walls, a single bare light bulb in living room, and several holes in the wall courtesy of a certain roommate who enjoyed holding competitive wrestling matches that ended with limbs going through sheetrock. But, it was the Schley, and one could never criticize the house for not having character.