Having uncharacteristically done much before 07:00, I decided to treat myself to some healthful food.
37th Ave. I did not see what I wanted at the prices I wanted at F’town, so I decided to forego their eggs and more expensive sausage for more familiar fare at FD, but when I arrived at FD, no one was there at 07:15, and all the gates were still entirely rolled down. I could have marched right back to F’town but instead blamed FD’s being closed for my continuing to DR and buying discount trail mix, discount ice cream and an inexpensive chicken pot pie (07:23) when really it was due to my lack of discipline and my desire for treats. Tom was there in an aisle. While I waited for my cashier, the usual mentally disabled man who used to wear the same t shirt every day with a caricature of himself thereon entered and approached me saying I looked like I’m from his time. After I inquired what “time” that was (perhaps 07:15), he said it was the 1950s. After I assured him I was not alive in the 1950s, he started telling me about how he writes poetry, but thank goodness my turn for the cashier came up.
I did not attend karaoke, blaming the impending thunderstorms, despite their amusing misspelling.
No photos.