The band lit into Hank Williams' "Ramblin' Man." Now there is an artist to listen to when you're depressed. Better yet, listen to Neil Young's version of "Oh, Lonesome Me," a staple for the recently dumped ("I bet she's not like me/She's out and fancy free/Flirting with the boys, with all her charms."). Watching the Cowboy Casanovas, I was lifted out of my lull for a moment and remembered what feeling hopeful was all about. I just love pedal steel.

"I feel better," I said to my friends, who had found me sitting on the sofa all sniffly earlier. I had decided that if I didn't hear back from my recent job interviews, I would go to a temp agency, which would hopefully be a mere lawn mower away from my next paycheck. They reminded me that no one is finding work these days, that we are on the brink of an economic depression, and that it wasn't entirely my fault that things have been so difficult.

The ruddy-faced bartender asked us if we wanted another round, but we had to leave. I really wanted to hear the rest of the band's set and maybe chat up a biker or two, but it wasn't in the cards. Though my mood was more upbeat, we were all feeling a bit woozy from our meal. Truth be told, I had to go into the bathroom and throw up a little bit. We tried not to think about what exactly was in the leek soup that wasn't, er, French. I promised to let my friends pick the restaurant next time.

I tipped my invisible hat to the Cowboy Casanovas and we left. I was still feeling a little bit country, but maybe even ready for some rock and roll. Tomorrow, as they say, is a new day.

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