So we decide to walk down to Bombadill’s because we were in the mood for some neighborhood coffee. Peering through the window we see a few people cheerfully getting high on caffeine. As soon as we open the door, WHAM!, they are closed. They weren’t even sorry they were closed. We crossed the street and tried to go to the coffee shop next to the Renaissance Building, but because it never opened, we weren’t going to get service there.

There’s only one thing that can fill the hole when you are looking for coffee, and that’s beer. Kate threatened to leave me and take all of my money if I tried to order an East Cross Street Hutchinson Hefe-Weisse. I know it’s a tired joke already, but if people can find humor in Carl Orff, then I can laugh at my own jokes.

In other news, hurricane Ivan threatens to put a cramp in the realization of plaque time. Save me Ron Rupert, you are on my only hope.