Business started Friday morning. Which gave me a new one: the three-month rule.
“If he starts acting mean in three months? Find another man.”
Unrelated:
Looks like costs are going up, and I’ll be forced to pass this increase onto the consumer.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch:
I tossed a few worms in the lake, at one time they were attached to a fishing line and pole, and I was largely unsuccessful until almost sundown. In between, I did wander downtown to tend to business, and I did enter into another barista barrage.
“So, what’s your birthday? I asked.
Leo. The other barista smirked. I mean, she smirked in a snarky, smirky way, punctuated with a great rolling of the eyes.
I pleaded my case.
“But The Leo is always the best.”
More animated smirkiness. From a Scorpio, no less. I got out of there as fast as I could.
I’m up and out the door to hit the lake: Saturday’s supposed to be a mirror image of Friday, damn near freezing at night, but almost 70 by the end of the afternoon. But weather in Texas is a fickle mistress.
