I was sitting on the balcony eating my cheese and basil sandwich and noticed that the basil plant has a bit of a mealy bug infestation. I rinsed off the basil before adding it to my sandwich but, oh well, at the very least the mealy bugs are clean now.
And now I'm off to the 18th St. Cafe for some personal time with my dissertation revisions. It turns out this little gem of a place is not, in fact, owned by Bob Dylan (Sarah, crushing my dreams again). Which significantly reduces my chances of meeting and then later marrying Jakob Dylan over an Italian Soda. I think my chances of meeting and then later marrying Prince William over an Italian Soda remain about the same.
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