Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Stone Ground or Dijon
About once a week, since we have completely opposite schedules, Jessica and I go out to lunch downtown on her break. It's strange being down there at that time of day. At that time, I'm dressed in my casual jeans, T-shirt, and baseball hat while everyone else is dressed to kill. People look at my wife with pity, I assume, thinking, "Poor woman, having to work and take her unemployed husband to lunch."
Ahead of us in line today, this guy who even smelled rich said to the girl behind the counter, "Does your club turkey come served with stone ground mustard or dijon?"
That's the point in which your life has lost meaning -- when the mustard served at a sandwich stand is important to you.
Now it's time for a break for a little while. I've got to wake up the dog, grab a quick jog before work, and then spend the next few days figuring out how I'm going to kill off poor Murali Factor.
Ahead of us in line today, this guy who even smelled rich said to the girl behind the counter, "Does your club turkey come served with stone ground mustard or dijon?"
That's the point in which your life has lost meaning -- when the mustard served at a sandwich stand is important to you.
Now it's time for a break for a little while. I've got to wake up the dog, grab a quick jog before work, and then spend the next few days figuring out how I'm going to kill off poor Murali Factor.
