Friday night, 7pm. Melinda & I have taken Ella to her friend’s house in West Seattle. We drop off a borrowed DVD at her sister’s house. We are looking for a place to grab a bite of dinner. Where to go?
Brenda suggests, even insists, we go to Dot’s Delicatessen. She says the magic words – duck confit. Away we go.
Melinda orders the BLT. I order the cassoulet with the duck confit. My nose starts to itch. My throat is scratchy. It’s been a long week. It takes a long time for the cassoulet to be served. It is very hot when it is served. I burn my tongue. Melinda calls me a crankopotamus.
What’s that I hear calling me? My bed?