Mr. H and I had a lovely weekend a few states away. Despite the supreme foolishness of bringing helpless life into the world and blowing out an entire wall of poorly wired outlets with a table saw, we still like each other. I trust this is because no one else will have us.
We sat and stared at boats swimming around being boats, and we realized that we are terrible, terrible people with mostly self-created problems. Ah, we already knew that. But it’s nice to sit and reflect, isn’t it? Then we went and had ice cream since I get dirty looks when I order whiskey. The people at Coldstone Creamery have to sing when they get a tip. That may be a worse problem than some of our stupid problems.
What? Are you serious about the people at Stone Cold Steve Austin? I doubt it, but I could still believe it, given the measures that corporate retail will take to humiliate and debase its employees.
I was told I could not leave $1 for a tip and $1 not to sing.