It always makes me a little melancholy when a neighborhood institution closes its doors for good. This is a tiny farewell.
Meanwhile, I was up all night with an intestinal something (NOT fortitude). A stomach flu, I assume, although Stef just e-mailed, wondering if I had eaten any bad chicken lately. At first I thought no, because I don't really love chicken unless it's fried and spectacularly unhealthy. But then I remembered I had a chicken pot pie for dinner Sunday night. I won't say where because I don't want to cast aspersions on a lovely little place where old people go to eat Sunday night dinner before watching episodes of the new Matlock, aka "Castle" they DVR'd earlier in the week. You know. Old people like me and Ken Cannon.
Anyway. Being sick sucks. Especially when it's all amber light and warmth outside.