"The thing about the Never-Ending Pasta Bowl is that no matter what you choose, it's like you get a strike every time you bowl."
Come on, Olive Garden, you expect this to be a step up from your Stereotypical Italian Family Eatin Pastafazool Mama Mia commercials?
Just about 7:00 here in the city of fun, the city that sleeps sporadically, and I've been up long enough to wipe the crust from my eyes and regain mental faculties enough to think about what to do next in life, or at least for the next few minutes.
"I think I'll go walk down to Porter and grab some donuts and coffee," I say to myself.
Then I say "Well, I have to move the car anyway cause it's parked on Lowell and there's street cleaning today, so why not drive down quickly to Porter and grab the donuts and coffee and come back and park safely?"
Then I think "Why not just bypass Porter all together and drive to Maine? Have some donuts and coffee in the parking lot across from the Nubble and watch the world wake up."
This third idea would've been brilliant were it not for the fact that it was already 7. If it were around 5 or so, I'd make it up just as the sun was coming up and beat any and all commuter traffic, if any, on 95 and Route 1. Then after I'd had my fill of watching the Nubble, I could drive a bit up into York Beach and maybe see if the Goldenrod candy store was awake yet, and watch the town close up again after another busy summer. Or I could go all the way up to Old Orchard Beach and watch it shutter itself, though I think York has a more organic charm to it than OOB, which prides itself in that scary narrow pier lined with beergardens and henna tattoo stands. (Unfortunately after September 1, Funtown is only open weekends, and only two weekends more.) Even with the axle the way it is I could keep a safe speed on the roads and drive around and come back in time for lunch, and not spending much money -- I figure donuts, coffee, and half a tank of gas would be the expenses here (though right now gas prices are, indeed, the worst I've ever seen. Sure glad we won that war and secured all that oil, guys.)
The third idea would have also been great if it hadn't just started pouring buckets of water here as I sat thinking about what to do next. And then stopped. And then sprinkled. Checking doppler maps online show a nice big splotch of yellow, fringed with green, all along the southern coast of Maine. Ah, the rain in Maine.
But still I must go out and move the car anyway, and so sallying forth to Porter we go. The car hates rain. I don't expect any decent forward movement for a mile or so, which conveniently is the distance I'll probably be travelling today round-trip. At least I don't have to fill up the tank afterwards.