It’s been one of *those* days: cold, rainy, blustery, and gray, with little pops of color and light and humor infused. I classify my job as being mainly customer-service-oriented, and there are always occasions when completely bizarre things happen that there’s just no reasonable explanation for. The query that put me over the edge? A web form recalling information from previous users on other computers. I am nowhere near techie enough to grasp why that might be happening.

And so, lunch. Steaming hot sausage Gumbo, thick slices of Tuscan Bread, an ounce of mild Vermont cheddar, and a chai-chocolate truffle for dessert. A few more hours to survive, then a brief walk in the cold, blustery afternoon weather, and a nap by the fireplace at home.

Although, given Bob Wallace’s philosophy, that might be dangerous after this lovely autumn lunch.

Bob:   If I have ham and cheese on rye like that, I dream about a tall cool blonde. Turkey, I dream about a brunette. A little on the scat-back side, but oh, sexy…
Betty: What about liverwurst?
Bob :  I dream about liverwurst.

Food, dreams, good old films… *sigh* Back to work.

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