Dialin' and drinkin'

A three-hour nap is a very good thing. I didn't accomplish much else today, beyond the obligatory daily weeding (it never ends). And a nice walk at sunset with Sophie, when it had cooled off a bit.

I did get one thing fixed, or rather, Frank did. That's Frank on the left, tracking down the source of my phone troubles. Not too hard: The neighbors cross the alley had some work done on their house, and someone left all the wires exposed, covered only by an orange plastic bag. It's been that way for months, but I didn't realize that was my phone line running through there, too.

Just in the last couple of weeks my landline started going out, but intermittently. Of course when the repair guy would check it, it would be working fine. (And no one noticed the orange bag.) Today it was out for good, and Frank fixed it. I hope for good.

That calls for a drink! A mojito, natch.
This was at Brandon's Pub, where I met some cow-orkers late this evening. I hadn't been there before. It's a little loud, but the seating is comfy (we were gathered around a low table, with leather armchairs, ottomans and a banquette). They have really BIG TVS, too, if you like that.

There was some weird drama with the staff, though. It took about a half-hour to get my drink, first because the waitress didn't see me come in, then because she had some screaming argument with her boyfriend and stormed out and the bartender took off, too. Huh?
Not that the place was very busy, but the poor waitress who had just finished her shift got dragged back in, and a customer stepped behind the bar to mix the drinks.

Frankly, this mojito was terrible. I don't know what went into it. But because no one knew how to work the register, it was free. Woohoo! We left the waitress a big tip.