THE PROSPECTIVE BURRITO

Welcome to the weekend, which mine is at present. Tuesday and Wednesday. Got off work about two hours ago, rode through the fog across a rather nice bridge -- really, they should put a picture of it in the tourist brochures under the caption "things you should do while visiting SF; walk across that big orange thing between San Francisco and Marin", or something -- and am now hunting around for a clean empty jar.
I need the jar for a new tobacco blend I'm working on.
It's got to stabilize for a few days.
The leaf must marry.


The jar I'm looking for is probably in the kitchen, which is forbidden territory at present, because my apartment mate is cooking up something for her shmendrick love interest Wheelie Boy.
It's a small kitchen, and gets crowded easily.

[She'll probably put it in freezer bags and shlep it over to his place tomorrow. She does this often, because he can't cook. Boruch Hashem the putz is never around this neighborhood.]

The mature and perspicacious badger (me) knows better than to get in the way of a woman with a cleaver. I fixed my coffee while she was on the phone with Wheelie Boy and got out. Not a moment to soon.

[By the way, just to gloat and thus irritate the tobacco heads, I augmented my stockpile with some more Penzance as well as a seven year old tin of McClelland's Dominican Glory Maduro recently. This will mean precisely nothing to sane people.]


Other than going out for a burrito later, the mature and perspicacious badger has nothing planned for the weekend; I am open to suggestions. Unless they involve a woman one would gladly die for, or squire over to a museum for several hours of admiring ancient crap (opportunities for self-sacrifice being thankfully quite limited), I may or I may not give them any thought.

The 'to be squired' woman, who is as yet entirely a hypothesis, would also like a hot cup of milk-tea. Of that I am reasonably certain.

A mature and perspicacious badger knows these things, what with not being a fool.


Whether the hypothesis would like the same kind of burrito is unknown. Suffice to say that she might not be impressed with the hipper burretistic possibilities, like black bean, gluten-free, or vegan, and would in any case eschew those, preferring instead something meaty and sinful.

With or without extra cheese.



In between futzing with new pipe tobacco blends, worrying about burritos, and hunting up delicious cups of milk-tea (or coffee, if it's late in the day), the mature and perspicacious badger hypothesizes.
It's a rich full life.



This new blend has a decent amount of Latakia.
The burrito will have carnitas, no beans.
The coffee is nice and strong.
I am wired.

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