It is 8:30 p.m. and really time to start dinner, which requires putting the really good pesto dish I made two nights ago into the microwave. Not having to obey a strict dinner hour and eating exactly what you want are two perks of adulthood and having your own business.
Another plus of having your own business is the illusion/delusion of writing off all expenses on your tax return. The cell phone is a great deduction but doesn't hold the same sizzle as restaurant and bar tabs. The manila envelope (recycled, of course, its first life was bringing a kitchen remodel catalog to my mailbox) on the right side of the second shelf of the bookcase near the front door is bulging with all sorts of receipts just waiting for Uncle Sam's reimbursements.
It is a nice feeling to pick up the check; the nerve wracking part is getting through the meal/drinks ritual. I'm not concerned about how much to tip or my table manners (Girl Scouts and my parents did a pretty job on that and I still get compliments). The confusing part is much more basic.
Since when did restaurants deviate from strictly either "sit down" or "take out" models? Nowadays, you never know if you order at the counter and someone serves you the food, or someone takes your order at a table and then calls your number to come pick it up. Or maybe you order and pick up the food yourself but someone sets your table. Then, do you bus your own dishes?
It is all very confusing. Not a burden by any means, just another confusion curve ball thrown into the game of life. (Methinks that sounds a tad too cliche.)
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