Well. Long time, no posts. I've had some good stories, too, with the weather nicer and people wanting to come downtown more. But, in adjusting to living with Coffeeboy, I haven't found the time.

I'll share one quicky:

The other morning, while I was still alone in the dining room (I'm the only one on from 8 to 10 most days), a group of four businessmen sat down at a popular table. I usually don't mind serving the suites that wander in from the conference center a few doors down: they're polite, most of the time, and while they're the worst culprits for looking at me the same way as they might look at the plants, they orders lots, wait patiently for their skinny decafs, and usually tip decently. It's an easy, if boring, table.

But these guys. Actually, it was really only one in particular. I dropped menus off and took a drink order, then went to get their coffees. I came back a few minutes later, lattes in hand, and asked how they were doing with the menu. Turns out, they hadn't even looked at them yet.

That's cool. Sometimes you get to talking and just don't. I offered to come back in a few, but these dingbats wanted me to recite everything on the breakfast menu. Nothing is frustrating quite like, "what do you have?" when there's a goddamn menu in front of them. But I kept my poker face, and explained every last thing on the breakfast menu.

This is when Turdface speaks up. Don't we have a croissant, with some meat and cheese or something? Why, yes we do, it's on the lunch menu right below breakfast, if you care to take a look. No, that won't do, he wants a croissant, with.... gruyere! And.... eggs! Scrambled! No, overeasy! And.... tomato!

Make that four!

Aaaalright, fine. They were starting to get on my nerves, but it was slow, and Chef was in a pretty good mood and probably wouldn't crank at me. Special order, it is.

As I was walking away, though, I heard Turdface grumble, "If they can make it, why isn't it on the menu?"

Well, asshat, we don't list every goddamn possible combination of food. And you didn't even READ the menu.

Chef was cool about it, and a few minutes later, I had the croissant things. As I dropped them off at the table, Turdface says to me mockingly, "See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Do not belittle the waitress! Ever! It WAS a pain in the ass, actually, and they and I were both lucky Chef was feeling benevolent enough to do it. If the place were busy, I would have been shot on sight for bringing back a special order like that. But I kept my poker face, and I don't think any of them noticed the angry scowl as I walked away without replying. Seriously. It amazes me how much crap I'm willing to take sometimes just to pay the bills.

As Turdface was leaving, by the way, he felt the need to bitch one more time at the barista because he could smell the kitchen wafting down to his table, and were we sure the fans were working? Oy vey. The smell of food in a restuarant is a GOOD thing, jackass. Would you rather smell bleach?

Anyways. What was I saying?

Right. Coffeeboy, life. Things are good. I haven't quite finished moving in yet, as there are still a few pieces of furniture to go. But I haven't so much as stepped foot in my old place in three days, so I think we're calling it official. It's nice. It's peaceful, and quiet. Right now I'm typing away while Coffeeboy is making something delicious with the groceries I bought this morning. Afterwards, I'll work on a rewrite for a contest coming up over tea, and he'll listen to CBC and sketch. Later we'll go for a walk on the waterfront, before going to bed early, because we both have to be up in the morning.

It's been good. I feel more at home now, especially since invading the bathroom yesterday. Have you ever seen a bachelor's bathroom? If you haven't, pray you never will. Oh, the lysol. Admitedly, I'm a bit of a freak when it comes to the bathroom being clean - which is funny, because I can also accumulate a dirty laundry pile like you've never seen. But the bathroom is where hygiene happens! I spent an hour on the shower alone. Coffeeboy poked his head in, and said, I bloody well quote, "I didn't know you were supposed to clean that!"