Anti-social duties

Today was a day I'd rather been dreading.

Our condo council decided that, the vast majority of owners being double-vaccinated, it was time to re-institute social gatherings, albeit outside in the larger lower parking lot in a huge circle.  We were to bring food to share, but our own drinks.

The council member responsible for organising this get-together teased us for sipping iced coffees from the neighbourhood coffee shop.  

"The notice said to bring our own drinks!" we protested.

"Oh," he laughed.  "You're the guys who actually read the emails.  You take everything so literally..."

I came back unscathed, but feeling vaguely overstimulated, with the uneasy sensation of having revealed too much, or not having observed the protocols of social interaction, and of over-sharing. Or under-sharing.  Or something.

It's not like I was ever particularly good at social gatherings, but after nearly a year and a half, I appear to have lost what little skill I had.

I did have two conversations before retreating gratefully, and possibly somewhat gracelessly back into the building and the quiet of our living room.

The Resident Fan Boy stayed a bit longer, and when he returned, I asked him to whom I'd been speaking.  My face-blindness is not a social asset either.  She turned out to be a hall neighbour, who clearly knew who I was.  We chatted about her job, and of the things I hadn't missed about the pandemic:  not getting colds or flu, and grungy shopping baskets (they've been sparkling clean for over a year).

I haven't missed potlucks, either, but I didn't tell her this.  That would definitely be over-sharing. Or under-sharing.  Or something.