For dinner, I went with my family to a little restaurant called Mimi's, which is done up in a cutesy cottage-motif, looking a bit like Geppetto's restaurant at Disneyland. As we sat down, my mother immediately noticed her plate was dirty, and gave it to the waiter. I laughingly observed that she and my sister always complain about the restaurant, that we always got dirty plates or cutlery, that our orders were frequently screwed up--and so why were we even there? Then I noticed a waitress in earshot a few feet away. I'm not sure what special sauce may've been in the vegetable quesadilla I ordered, but I had trouble finishing it.
I suppose I better get to the things I gots to do . . .