An Eruption Of Pointless Statements.

The music at Ladro was nice. Loud, but nice. My too favorite baristas were there and we were chatting about the relative wisdom of switching from drip coffee to iced americano this early in the season. I noted that at least they wouldn't be seeing me in my white denim Nikes until next Friday, and that was, regrettably, the best I could do.

The sun was infuriating. I finally busted my sunglasses. The pair Compadre gave me before I moved up here. I was so pissed I almost punched the woman standing next to me, but she was like 75 and all frail and shit and minding her own business. I know I said I was going to get a pair of Wayfarers, but I haven't, and where the hell do you even find those?

Picked up my copy of Country Life at the market as I always do every Friday. Got into the office and someone was talking to me about doing something spontaneous this weekend, and I nodded and muttered something which hopefully conveyed that I could relate to what they were saying.

Some man fell into a sinkhole outside our office yesterday. People stood at the window and stared at the ambulance for what seemed like hours. The guy seems alright. I guess the sea wall is crumbling. My office is on the sea wall. My work is quite literally, if albeit slowly, falling into Elliot Bay.