I knew I would get a beating during Two Weeks of Pain, but I didn't think it would extend beyond the pre-vacation workload! The heat was unbearable today, and I'm in fact writing to you from a bunker underneath the house, and because I had to walk to the post office on my lunch hour (which turned into almost two), odds are good I got a face full of sunburn. Let's just say I don't USUALLY look like I just opened a cartoon character's explosive present.
It really was a strange lunch break. I did something I never do, which is go and sit in a diner by myself and have a quick lunch surrounded by the cast of Best Marigold Hotel. I probably took the average age down by 20 years just by being there. Felt a little pathetic, to tell you the truth.
But this was a day that started with me splashing half a cup of coffee on my white shirt, and hit its peak with an announcement that our improv tournament this weekend (a large reason for my over-business these past two weeks) was threatened by Hurricane Arthur(!). So what does Day 11 have for me? Dare I ask?
Comments
DINERS are a whole other matter. It was 1 PM when I went in and it was packed with seniors, and it stayed packed until I left at 1:25. I'd seen, y'know, widowers who couldn't make their own homecooked, familiar meals and spent their pensions there, but never imagined so many people that age aggregated there.
It's a diner I frequent from time to time because they have amazing pie, for an early evening chat over coffee for example, or the occasional inexpensive brunch. I like the place. I just saw something of my own future and it spooked me.