The Stars and the Cookie Jar

May I start with "I hate technology", or is that overdone? Last night involved attacking my computer with a paperclip. Everything's mostly working now, except for when you have to turn on the caps key to get lower case.

I really don't want to go to work tonight. Saturday night closes are not a lot of joy, though I nearly always see my rabbi for his post-havdalah next-week's-beans. See, a lot of the restaurants in the area have closed up, and that means not only is the district a little darker and scarier after hours, people who used to go to The Mill and the Music Hall late Saturday night come to Starbucks. They hit the doors after wherever they ate dinner closes, which is generally the time we're trying to close too. Blecch. So you never get out at the time the schedule says you are.

Plus side, I have Sunday and Monday off. For personal reasons, I still don't really want it to be Monday -- I never met a good Monday yet -- but I'll survive.

Entry title, for those keeping score, refers to the utter crossroads I am at. Six dozen roads converged in a yellow wood...

Work was busy. So busy that I am just now tucking in to the dinner I ordered at 7:30pm. (Veggie chili baker from across the way; such nice people, to realise that not all people in the South can eat pig derivatives. To be fair, it's not just us; there are a ton of women in the neighborhood who wear the hijab....)  To all of you Atkins weirdies out there, I say, mmm, taters.

One of you just did a Gollum voice. I heard it. From here.

And now it's time fot the Airing of the Peeve (found it! Found a grievance!) ... should your daily travels take you to, say, a specialty coffee chain, please trust me to do my job and make your drink the way you, the Honored Customer, would like it made  Example:

"Ma'am, here's your decaf tall nonfat, no-whip white mocha."

"It's decaf, right? And with skim milk? And you took the whipped cream off it?"

I just said that! You have now forced me to unleash the winged monkeys! Eeeyaaagh!

End example.

In fact, end dinner, and end journal entry. I hope everybody's so drunk they can't tell chai from mocha... er, I mean the hero from the villain...