Paul’s appointment went very well. For privacy and security no deets.
Afterward I didn’t get the impression that he wanted to go home so I fed him an early supper at Brown’s Social House in New West. He had an IPA so strong it would melt a fucking spoon and Thai chicken soup and I had cod tacos and salad and a zero alcohol raspberry Mojito (which was spectacular, worth every cent of the five bucks it cost me). I am exceedingly fond of that restaurant in particular… I am the demographic they are seeking. And eating in a restaurant? Yes I’m an idiot. Don’t care.
I thought I’d die walking back up Keary in the heat but Paul was fine, lucky dog.