I’ve ordered the pizza, but I’m waiting here until the raigTn stops before I pick it up. There’s a schedule but it’s not a rigid schedule so I should be fine. It’s not rigid mostly because it’s not my schedule and I don’t feel overly beholden to the schedules of nine year olds. That’s not very considerate of nine year olds.
It’s not easy being nine. Easier, probably, than ninety except at ninety you kind of know the routine. Unless you’ve forgotten. But if you remember then you probably know how it came to be that your schedule lost precedence. Like it or not, at least you know. A nine year old has no basis for understanding how these things happen.
But there is nothing I can do about the rain, and it’s certain to melt the cardboard off the pizza. So here I sit, watching a young couple sit in the window, talking and checking their iPhones. I’m hoping this rain lets up soon.
UPDATED
I got wet.
Where did you get the pie from?
My Father’s, after a brief respite in the Dripolator.