On an evening when we discovered that one of favourite eateries - Prata Alley - is moving to a new location due to a hike in the rental being charged for their current premises, and the new location is somewhat off the beaten track for us, this coming after my realisation that I can no longer use the ATM for my main bank account since I was sent a new one which failed to 'activate' despite me following all the instructions about getting it to do so to the letter, and then forgetting to follow up on this with the bank directly due to being swamped by work, after being unable to establish contact on the telephone number I was given since it was unnavigable by ordinary human intelligence, I have manfully decided to forgo moaning about any of this.
After all, it's modern life, and, therefore, rubbish. (And we're talking first world problems here, guys.)
I'd rather remember the two fine teh tariks (gajah) I consumed in the midst of all the frustration and the surpassingly excellent late period poems by Archie Ammons I got to read prior to going out.
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