Lunch

Dave says he has plenty of money and don't need to worry while he doesn't have a job, but have been on frugal kick anyway, bringing lunch every day. Today out do self (and also leave idententical lunch in refrigerator for Dave, who perhaps wasn't raised to be economical, but ought to be--am training him on this and other deficiencies--though this raises the possibility that he is training me on deficiencies of own--probably best to pursue topic no further.) Lunch consists of sandwich (cheddar cheese, tomato--the supermarket Roma kind that are only vaugely like tomatoes, but aren't mealy, spinach, mayo and dijon) salt-and-pepper chips, carrot and celery sticks, a slice of apple pie (from dinner last night, a bit smashed, but still edible,) a orange, and snack for later int he afternoon--bag of raw almonds and golden raisins. Consume every scrap of lunch at two minutes past eleven. At eleven fifteen, stomach a bit distended and uncomfortable, even considering undoing top button on pants. Cindy Stevens comes into office and asks Do you want to go to lunch? We have a big fish we need to land. Do not appreciate mention of either lunch or fish, but good manners and need to keep job force self to say That would be lovely! If not for discomfort, lunch would have been lovely because it is at Gotham and Big Fish is lively eighty-year-old who tells ribald stories about the nineteen-thirties. Observe that Cindy Stevens has rare talent of being able to seem to be sharing own personal history without actually saying anything at all. Eat half of bowl of leek soup and drink pellegrino.