Morsel: the beginning of an end of an era

So I went to Morsel for breakfast, as I often do. It’s a little local restaurant that mostly specializes in amazing biscuits with things on it; I’ve been a regular for the past few years. They know me by name.

The dude working the register is it to browse the web, turns out he’s buying plane tickets for his multi-stage plan to quit this gig, take a vow of silence for ten days, leave his other job, go spend a couple weeks being a tourist in Japan, then move to Australia. Which, damn, I envy that. I tell him thanks for all the wonderful breakfasts and wish him good luck.

This is on top of already having heard that one of the cooks is gonna be leaving for an R&D job. He’s there today too so I get to wish him well in his new gig and thank him for the many great breakfasts, too. Hopefully he passed on a lot of his biscuit wizardry to his replacements; they’ve been training a few new people anyway due to expanding the place. It’ll go on and I trust the owner to find people who’ll keep the same level of quality, but it’s definitely not the same little hole in the wall I started going to a few years ago.

Nothing is permanent. I’ll be leaving Seattle myself next spring if all goes well. I’d do it sooner but I couldn’t get the landlord to budge more than a couple months on the lease, so I get to grit my teeth and deal with one last Northern winter. The 2018/19 will be the fourteenth, between Boston and Seattle, and I am pretty sure a fifteenth would have a good chance of being my last winter ever, given how much seasonal depression I go through.

I realized this morning that I have spent slightly more than half my life in New Orleans, and slightly less than that away from it. If I put off moving back until I hit fifty it’d be exactly half. I dunno how long I’ll stay this time, me and Nick are kinda thinking maybe just a couple years while we get Parallax going before moving somewhere new to us both, but right now I don’t feel like I’d be too broken up if I end up spending the rest of my life there.  Moving away and coming back around the age of seventy-five would be pretty awesome, too, though!

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