Three weeks ago, I reserved the back room in a restaurant for our book discussion group's annual Reading and Eating Meeting, having lunch there in the process. The meeting date was four weeks in the future, one week now.
Having had occasional experience in the past of initiating and finalizing definite plans for a future date, only to find that the other party assumes that you've canceled the plans because you don't repeatedly ping them in the interim, I decided that I'd better ping before I e-mailed our members the last reminder for the meeting and the details of how to get there.
That meant driving up there again and having lunch again, far from an objectionable prospect. It was quiet there again, and I found the same two staff members on duty as had been there that earlier Saturday. We're meeting next Saturday, so I sense stability here. What's more, they remembered me, apparently for my distinctive habit of reading a book at the table, and they also confirmed the reservation.
So that's done. I went home and wrote the e-mail.