3:00 PM

kelly got her stickers, my boss calmed down, and the drenched hipster came by to pick up his bike lock even though it would only be as useful as a wallet during the great depression. and in some ways, the world was back at peace.

"this is not what i ordered," my boss said as he finally opened his barbacco bag.

it was at peace for a moment, anyway.

"i ordered the shrimp sandwich and they gave me duck," he said.

when i first met my boss, he criticized the amount of calories in a white mocha and i took the entire conversation as small talk. it wasn't. he's borderline obsessive compulsive about calories in the same way he's obsessive compulsive about wet-wiping the telephones. when he says, "i'm going to treat myself" it means he's going to have four california rolls and ignore how many carbs they include.

the duck sandwich was too greasy for his taste and certainly not as healthy as shrimp.

"this is ridiculous," he moaned, "duck. duck! i ordered shrimp."

"hey," i said, "it's like ordering fucking chinese food."

i caught him smile. he tried to hide it as soon as it crawled across his face, but i saw it while it lasted and that was enough for me.

"well," he said, "it looks like you're having duck for lunch. it's all yours, steven."

score.

back at peace again.