You find a (nearly) full (and only partially stale) bag of cheddar booty in the pantry. And not that lame veggie booty, real, live, honest to goodness cheddar. The heavens parted and there it was.
Fresh bottle of Bombay Sapphire, fresh bottle of tonic, one not so fresh lime, and my book and I was set for an afternoon of time passing.
I have every intention of beginning golf lessons if I can remember what day of the week it is. Strike two.
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