Yesterday I drank beer with dinosaurs. Today I had to close the store. There were no dinosaurs there, only cranky people. And one extroverted drag queen.
I'm not sure the hangover will ever go away.
Be back this week with more coffee-flavored ruminations. In the meantime, here's a postcard:
Bahåi House of Worship in Wilmette and I've driven past that thing more often than I've driven past Wrigley Field. I wonder if there's some obscure rule in the catechism about visiting other houses of worship: does God consider it cheating? Is it like a cubs devotee partying at Comiskey?