As I was walking out of my building, the bearish neighbor, who was in the elevator, summoned me back in to help him access the basement, and he told me that one of his lobby keys does not additionally work in the elevator keyhole.
Frozen cauliflower, pre‐cut cheese, a mango chef salad and three pounds of Franks from F’town. The tops of the salad dressings were each hand‐labeled as either J or V and I surmised the V stood for vinaigrette, but I asked the skinny worker who was mopping behind the deli counter if he knew wherefor the J stood but he didn’t. (I took the vinaigrette.) R’mon was at the self‐checkout area but I was not.