The Neighborhood Colombian Restaurant at the End of a Long Day

Yesterday was another difficult day at work, with heated discussions about how many students we needed registered for midquarter start classes and stern reminders about the I9 form.  At the end of the day, I came home completely fried and frazzled.

I said to my spouse, "It's been the kind of day when I want to go to a Mexican restaurant and eat 3 platters of food and drink margaritas."

My spouse said, "I'll put on my shoes."

We didn't go to a Mexican restaurant.  Instead, we went to a Colombian restaurant. We'd been driving by it for over a year, watching as it got transformed from a laundromat to a restaurant. We wanted to eat there before it closes, as often happens with restaurants here.

It seems family run, by people who don't speak much English. There was enough English on the menu that we could have a sense of what we were ordering. It was a fun treat, and good food.

Going out on the spur of the moment snapped me out of my bad mood.

I still have questions about how one looks at a laundromat and says, "I can transform that into a restaurant!"  And while it's on a busy street, are there going to be that many people to eat there?  It's open from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., which made me wonder about the intended diners--or is that just when the owner wants to be at work?

I am happy that I was able to have a decent evening, even after a frazzling day at work.  I am happy that we supported a neighborhood restaurant and tried new things. 

I am happy that I spend this morning updating my website and complete publication lists (how have I let it go this long?).  I am happy for an inspiration for a poem:  Noah calls FEMA after the flood.

I don't have time to write that poem this morning.  Off to spin class!