Mild Flirting

Finally hung the Carter painting, changed light bulbs, spot-mopped where some kids had tracked in mud. Facility maintenance. Got out the big ladder to re-focus a light in the main gallery, a light that had jumped up (they do this sometimes, they're just thumb-tightened down) and was hitting the wall above the pedestal it was supposed to be lighting. D and I went to the pub for lunch. There's a young woman down at the other end of the bar, waiting for a to-go order, I know her, to smile at, her name is Misty. Maybe once a week I see her in there, at lunch, getting a to-go order, and now she always goes out in the aisle behind the bar stools. D and I, always, if possible, sit in the same place, right across the bar from where that multi-nozzle thing hangs, that allows the servers to get various soft beverages, including water, and we sit there so we can do our own refills. Convenient, good view of the TV so we can get our sports fill in five minutes, and the servers all know we're in a hurry. I always catch her eye, when she's leaving, and she smiles, and waggles some fingers. I don't know what waggling fingers meant, but it looked like it meant something; and Lynsey leans in, separated by a bar, and asks, "what was that?" What attention we pay to what.