A tankful of gas
My morning meal, at home, follows a routine. The local market bakes cinnamon rolls. Great by themselves, or with fresh coffee. Nothing else required, or wanted. While on the road, I swing to the other extreme. Cornucopia.
This morning, I worked through a platter of food in a local restaurant that ONLY does breakfast. A niche market, but it has allowed them to have a chain of restaurants that do very well. On the manifest: eggs, bacon, sausage, potato, tomato, bread, cretons, baked beans, juice and coffee. See the difference?
With our meal out of the way, we headed uptown to visit son #2 and acquire an item which has been promised for the better part of a year, but not able to be shipped. A rather large cylinder, destined for refill duties on my SodaStream ensemble.
Paying $20 for each refill (plus the round trip to the shops in the city that stock CO2 bottles) has convinced me to find a “better way”. I can purchase a hose with the required connectors via Amazon, and there has to be someone on my Island that deals with industrial gases. Soon, my bubbly water will be assured.
We had been told that a local shopping mall welcomed dogs on their leash, so the mutt and his best friend went wandering this afternoon. Eventually, the fallacy was indicated, and they came back. No harm.
Tonight will be a movie night for the others; I’m staying in and catching up on my quiet time. Tomorrow we travel some more. Oh, and the car met the car wash, for the first time in a very long time. Shiny!
