Digestion and indigestion

Tonight post-NYU I met up with Lara and another friend of hers who lives in Italy. The occasion was dinner at Artisanal, a feted French brasserie on 32nd Street at 2 Park Avenue best known for its cheese selection. During Restaurant Week (an annual feature of the NY food calendar) it’s possible to go to such places and eat three courses for $35 (plus tax, plus drinks, plus tip, but still …). The relative bargain explains the cacophony that greeted us on entering the establishment.

After we had eaten too much, I caught the train home and performed the usual tasks one does after a lengthy commute. On flushing, the water decided not to go down, but to rise up and over the bowl. There I was in my lovely black dress and heels, hands newly manicured (which can be had on most blocks for the princely sum of $10 – plus tip), having to suddenly perform drastic surgery on the toilet. Not quite the digestif I had been contemplating for this evening.

 

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