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Okay, might as well dola.
Just had a startling realization: when I stopped at a local hot dog joint and ate inside tonight, it was the first time in 28 days that I'd eaten outside my house. Have had a few pick up meals but the last time I sat down somewhere to eat was the night before Will headed back to Miami.
If you've paid attention over the years, you may have picked up on the fact that we rarely eat at home (and even then it's probably 70% drivethru orders if we eat here).
Doing that math, after a day that started before 6a and included a missing cat (found safely after 4.5 hours of growing panic) AND that aforementioned m-in-law doctor trip (seems to be fine, mostly anxiety driven symptoms & complaints), I much better understood why I REALLY wanted to dine in just about any ol' place tonight.
My comment to my regular counter guy tells the tale "I just really wanted something that felt normal"
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"I lit another cigarette. Unless I specifically inform you to the contrary, I am always lighting another cigarette." - from a novel by Martin Amis
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