Today was, for all intents and purposes, St. Patrick’s day. I base that merely on two facts. The first was that a large group of Irishmen descended upon my condo and started tearing it apart. (I had apparently paid for this privilege.) The second was that I had dinner at an Irish pub.
Let’s cover these in more detail.
My condo is having major repair work done. So, today I had to work from home and let them in to my place. They proceeded to remove every window and door from its frame, do some weatherproofing in the hole left behind, and then put them back. I was the first person they did on the south side of the building. Which meant they were up and at it before I was even finished brushing my teeth. And they never came through the front door; they attacked from the windows.
They were pleasant enough and seemed very professional. Although it was scary watching one using an electrical saw mere centimetres from his own power cord. I tried to be a cordial host and offered them cookies. They were also nice enough to take some time out from their other work and take a look at my front door.
I had a chiropractic appointment in the early evening, so I walked there. Along the way, I passed O’Byrne’s, an Irish pub. They were having an all-you-can-eat fish and chips nights. I was intrigued. Yesterday I hadn’t eaten enough, which had left me somewhat lethargic. Today wasn’t much better. This is dangerous, because right now I need to be eating as much as possible in anticipation of my race this weekend. An all-you-can-eat would probably help.
Unfortunately, I asked my chiropractor about my plan, and she wasn’t pleased. Too much grease and oil. She’s probably right, but there was a quality of life issue. The issue being that I didn’t want to go to Pita Pit for dinner. So after my appointment, I went back to O’Byrne’s. I don’t feel I was as ambitious as I could have been. My dinner size was downright reasonable. But I do feel sated now, which is a nice feeling.