Wednesday, November 12, 2003

We named the fish Friday. Friday died. I'd just bought a larger tank, gravel and a castle for him to hide behind, and treated the water for chlorine. He liked all that stuff in the small bowl, and was doing fine, but the larger bowl just did him in, or maybe he was terminal anyway. We'll never know. Greg says I'm running a fish hospice.

I had another Seinfeld moment while getting a burrito the other night. I walked in and the place was deserted, probably because of the trendy new burrito place a block away. Anyway, I order my burrito and pay, and the lady, the ONLY other person in there, gives me a receipt, circles the number at the bottom and says, "Number 60." Um, OK. So she goes behind the counter, makes the burrito, puts it in a bag, places it on the counter and calls out, "Number 60!" I look around just in case someone has walked in and I missed it, and thank her. I was afraid she was going to ask to see my receipt just to make sure I was in fact Number 60. Even though NO ONE else was there, not even a custodian or another cook. I guess rules are rules.

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