I sat at home, looking outside the big picture window as tiny flakes of snow fell from the slate sky and thought about my day. Where to go? To go? Lunch? Where?

Then I got over it. There is nowhere to go. There are no destinations out there where I could find anything that I want. What I want is lost to the past. Again I find myself fondly recalling “The Spot” coffeehouse in Buffalo. It was immense, comfy couches and chairs, and a central ebony bar where you could order any beverage as long as it was tea or coffee based. That’s where I want to go. So of to Yelp to see what is available locally.

Give me a break. Everything is either in run down factory space, which means derelict paper plant shipping skids repurposed into shops, with benches and uncomfortable seating arrangements, with expensive blown out menus — or a chain. Chains serve a purpose but they are not, and never will be, destinations. They are locations of opportunity.

So, lunch at home. Entertainment at home. Everything is here, why would I leave? So I’m all dressed up and have nowhere to go. And the key is to make peace with that. To make peace with the inaccessible past. To let it go and accept the boring and dull crapscape before me.

Thank goodness I can cook for myself! I’d be lost otherwise. The only reason to leave will be to fetch Scott at 5pm. That’s it.