cracking knuckles

"Maybe you need to try meeting people other than bartenders," sniffed Allie haughtily but not incorrectly. Indeed, I received two invitations to Thanksgiving from new friends last year. They both did so while pouring me drinks.

It is time.

I'm going to try one of those "co-working" places, where you pay a monthly fee to use a shared office space. The idea is that perhaps I can meet actual professional somethings, anythings there. In practice, I expect to find nothing but whiny millennials pretending they're captains of industry and whispering about my sweatpants.

When that fails, I'll explore volunteerism. A quick check of my options shows that most efforts are hopelessly intertwined with rollickin' religious types, so I'm really hoping to quickly develop a tolerance for millennial whining.