I ate downstairs in the "diner" today. The diner is three sets of booth seats, and counter with stools (facing a wall), a fridge, dishwasher and microwave. The neon clock has disappeared. the neon "hot coffee" sign I hung in there a few years ago isn't working -- the transformer burned out. There's a shuffleboard table, foosball table and TV down there. It's rudimentary as far as kitchens go, but it's a decent space. There's even a bar with deep refrigerated coolers and such, but it's used more for storage than anything else.
I gathered my ingredients from the fridge in my office and made my way downstairs. It was quiet down there. Nobody else was in the room, the normally blaring TV was off. Perfect, as I'd planned on going over the proofreader's remarks for a project during lunch, marking the ones that needed to be done and crossing through others that didn't. As I started preparing my food. though, Randall came in with his lunch, followed shortly by Anita.
Since I'm trying to get back to eating more healthfully six times a day, I had a salad of Mâche Mix (mâche, radicchio and frisee) with tuna, a locally grown tomato, sliced egg, sliced mushrooms with bleu cheese dressing for lunch. Nothing to drink. I meant to get a large glass of ice water, but forgot.
So rather than marking the proofer's marks, I enjoyed talking with them as we ate. I'm now back in my office. It's time for one of my last few Diet Seven-ups and short walk outside.