Days Eighteen and Nineteen

Ruston, LA

Day Eighteen

As with most rest days, there's not much to say. I went to Waffle House for breakfast. I was surprised to see/hear Amy there. When she came near my seat at the counter, I said, " I hope you've been home since I saw you here last night." She said that she got home around 9:30 last night, then came in at 9:00 AM today. She added that tomorrow would be the same, but at least she'd go home early, at 2:00 PM. I didn't ask, but I assumed she was a college student who was working all those hours just because it was the weekend.

I spent the rest of the morning working on the web site. Around 1:00 PM,  I went across the street to the Pizza Inn for a very filling lunch buffet. Then I went back to my room and my laptop. It was a beautiful sunny day and maybe I should have ridden around a little, but there wasn't really anything in particular that I wanted to see. Besides, I really wanted to get something substantial online. Still stuffed from lunch, I decided to skip dinner and keep working, taking a break to watch South Park.

Day Nineteen

I planned to put on some miles today and put in for a 6:00 AM wake-up call. Alas, when I looked out the window, I could barely see the Waffle House. I was not going to take the chance of riding in fog. I started editing my digital photos for the web. Around 10:00 the fog cleared, but by then I was too into my work to think about packing up and riding somewhere. I made a point of avoiding the Waffle House so that Amy wouldn't think I really was stalking her. At 11:30 I went back to the Pizza Inn for another lunch buffet and was surprised to find the place crowded. It was an after-church ritual or something. I felt underdressed.

The other pizza place, Johnny's (" Louisiana's Favorite" ), had a Sunday night buffet, so naturally I had to check that out, too. It wasn't that good, but it was cheap. It was typical college town pizza, I guess. Back in my room, I uploaded a good week's worth of material, so at least I accomplished something.

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