This week I
Alas, there is nowhere to sit at the bar - it's simply a place for booze and mixers and glasses. I live in an apartment and don't have a basement. I do have a basement storage space and considered setting up a little bar down there complete with barstools and a transistor radio so that we could listen to the Twins, but as it tends to be the case with preparing cold drinks too far from your kitchen: the logistics of ice got too complicated.
Currently I'm having a dirty martini. No clients tomorrow, just writing and reading. No idiot barfly next to me blabbing on and on. This is sweet (though the drink is salty.)