One nice thing about a lingering, hacking cough? Folks avoid spending time in my presence. Gives me a little break. But not much of one. After many failed attempts with one red headed Capricorn, I was finally able to make it to eat at “Thai Passion” — with a different dining companion — red hair, sun sign? Capricorn. Coincidence? Surely not. The perfect food on a cold winter’s day, “What’d you get?” “F 1.” “But what is it?” “Something beef something ginger. Hot. Spicy.” (Perfect.)
On my way home for the day, I stopped off at the bookstore, shocking the poor counterhelp, “Kramer? I mean, it looks like you, but the clothes you’re wearing….” [Black cowboy hat, black jeans, black shirt, black coat, black topcoat, rather dapper I might add.] I was meaning to pick up a copy of Dave Barry’s “Big Trouble” because the opening scene is about voting irregularities in Florida, and when I got home, I reread that one passage, and by midnight, I’d read the whole book, all over again.
