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August 27, 2008

Could you please stop hovering?

August 27. Day 58.

Today's asking occurred shortly after dawn. What an easy day this will be, with my daily asking completed before I've even had time to check my morning emails!

I woke up, as I mentioned in the last post, on the couch, after falling asleep in a taquito-induced torpor. Last night I went to dinner with A&K at Casa de la Rosas, a mexican place in Old Town. I don't know what they stuffed their taquitos with, but within half an hour of finishing dinner my eyes were droopy. We went for a walk, followed by chocolate-mint tea at Extraordinary Desserts, and as we discussed marzipan and the pursuit of happiness, I rested my head on the stucco wall and started imagining it was a soft, downy pillow.

After dragging myself to shelter, I collapsed on the couch and woke up with a start. Seven hours later.

I was refreshed. But hungry.

"Want to get breakfast?" I asked Mr. A, who was getting ready for work. (No, that wasn't my asking. That was just a question.)

He immediately got a slightly wild look in his eyes, a look that says one thing alone: Denny's!!

An hour later, as I was munching on my final fries and snatching bites of his pancakes, the waitress came with the bill. Mr. A slid it in front of him and brought his pen to the tip line, as the waitress stood next to him, watching. He stopped, slightly uncomfortable, and she waited patiently.

"Would you mind coming back later, or can we drop the receipt off at the register?" I asked.

"Sure, I'll be back in a little." I hope it wasn't rude, and I'm sure she was in a hurry and probably didn't really care about the tip itself. But it felt like she was rushing him.

Gained: Comfort to multiply in peace, for a guy who's a much more generous tipper than I am (but didn't you already know that?)
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