I must have used the wrong line

Last night after a day of equal amounts of leisure and hard work, Eamon and I went to a party at CSU for a co-worker of his who is retiring.
The party was to be held at one of the banquet rooms in this building. Though my husband has worked at his job for 15 years, he had no idea where we were to go. Due to the size of the "convo", we ended up walking for about ten minutes trying to find a way in. As we discovered none, he mentioned that it might actually be next week.
I could have easily done without the vast quantity of bird feathers, guano, eggshells and other kind of wasteland sitings that we perused as we made our way from door to door. But next week, we'll have it down.
So, we decided to go out to eat at a restaurant in Tremont and we went to to sit out on the patio. Because we are not savvy and or mind readers, we sat at the wrong table. Ultimately, we moved four times before settling down to our castigating waiter/criticism session coordinator's choice of appropriate locations. We should have left, but we were so far into the dysfunction of the experience, and disoriented by one week, that we just stayed and wallowed in it, much like we end up doing every day.