what i see: my roommate, marking up a paper with a pink highlighter
SO my newfound only-chained-to-the-desk-for-20-hours-per-week lifestyle has afforded me a blessed privilege: fridays off.
how i spent my first one...
lunch at a quaint little italian restaurant with my papa. staring out the window of the restaurant, pondering the universe and such.
the highlight had to be when i overhead the owner’s conversation with the patron in the next booth.
owner: thick italian accent. crocheted shawl. large, thick-rimmed glasses. plus a dash of sass and pinch of vintage sophistication.
what my ears beheld (i attempted to apply the appropriate italian accent)...
owner: my husband, he-a cooks-a back in the kitchen
patron: so did the two of you meet back in italy...?
owner: yes, i decide to-a marry him-a when i was-a four.
patron: oh wow...
owner: yes, i-a flirt-a much but he no understand
patron: so you finally just proposed to him, eh?
owner: oh no! i-a let him think-a it was-a his idea.
oh canelloni. the things we shared.