Why I Suspect That the Barista Forgot to Put the Shot of Espresso in My Iced Mocha This Morning
It did taste awfully sweeter than usual.
I am so tired I almost—almost!—took a nap on the couch beside the window, but the slap-slap-slap-slap of another writer’s flip-flops kept me from drifting off.
My head is full of cotton and nothing is coming out. The page is blank. Oh, I have typed in one adverb.
I am wary of adverbs, thanks to Rick Moody. (But I keep using them.)
We are having a family birthday dinner next week here, in the city where I live, and I can’t for the life of me think of where to suggest we go for dinner. Restaurants have lost their names, and not everyone in my family likes Korean food (are they crazy?).
Rick Moody is not a member of my family.
Speaking of Korean food, I want a tofu hot pot right now.
I have no idea why I am writing this post.
Did I say my head is full of cotton?
I wonder if I take this empty cup back to Starbucks and say I am still tired even after drinking it if they will give me a free refill.