My chicken teryaki combo (which includes miso soup, veggie and shrimp tempura, sushi, salad, rice, and a California roll) and order of edamame comes to $26, including the $2 delivery charge and 20 percent tip (the weather’s a mess out there).
It’s a lot of food that I usually pick up weekly (it’s two blocks away) and my stomach has expanded enough that I easily eat it all in one sitting and am only slightly insulted to see them include two pairs of chopsticks with the meal.
They estimated delivery time at a whopping 90 minutes, so I’m writing while waiting.
Earlier today I had enough with sludging through the slush and freezing rain-turning-into-snow to see a play that I would’ve skipped if I hadn’t already paid for it.
It was two train rides and I arrived at the Bryn Mawr theater five minutes late and twice decided to bail along the way, but if I was already out in this weather I may as well follow through. The play ended up starting late, as plays always do because of an old theater superstition.
The Juniper Tree was a fun two-character musical and the theater was warm enough that I slept through most of it. I’d awake to loud noises or yelling by the actors, and whenever I did it seemed they were staring straight at me. Or maybe I was the one making the loud noises while napping.
I liked what I was conscious for, but was eager to escape and duck into the corner Starbucks for my usual venti soy chai tea latte before heading home.
My shoes are drying, my toes are thawing,