And the Dyson saga continues. Today I went to pick up some packing stuff. The Purolator lady told me it doesn’t have to be in an exact-sized box. Once I’m comfortable with how I’ve wrapped it and the waybill is on it, they will ship it.
Dre came with me because I thought I’d be able to get a perfect box. After picking up the bubble wrap and tape, we walked over to Robo Sushi.
There was a family sitting one booth down and to the right of us. The boys were climbing over and sitting on top of the booths, and another one was crawling over a table the staff JUST cleaned up.
I suspect the boys were ready to get outta there; that’s how children are. Parent figure one was sitting there thinking, if I ignore them, they will go away. I could be wrong, but that’s the vibe I was getting. Parent figure two, “Get down.” “Don’t do that.” “Come back here.”
There’s a period when we live for our children and all we do revolves around them – if you know your kids can only sit for an hour, leave in 45 minutes. Take them to McDonald’s or some shit so they can run around in the PlayPen after they eat – that way you don’t have to feel rushed to leave. Anywhere that’s gonna take more than an hour is off limits to you. And if you really want sushi, get that shit delivered or come pick it up.
If I owned a restaurant, it would not be family friendly. I’ll put a sign outside:
I love abandoned buildings and walking down quiet streets. I’m psyching myself up for going to the office next week.