TBK has been lasagnaing all day and I’ve been working on the day-to-day at the restaurant, all the while trying to put aside stuff for Friday and Saturday. We’re temporarily a man down in the shop due to a tragedy, so some extra juggling is taking place. Whomever came up with the term “self-employment” obviously didn’t try it for themselves. You don’t work for yourself, you work for EVERYbody. So I’m a couple days late paying city sales taxes. I think Sugar Ray and his crew can handle it.

Speaking of taxes, we’re seeing them hard at work here in the Irish Channel. The streets are actually being resurfaced — including rebuilding of all corners. In most places (such as on our corner lot), the actual curbs sank into the pavement sometime back in the Rutherford B. Hayes Administration. But now they are being rebuilt — complete with wheelchair ramps and street nameplates (not sure if actual tiles will be used or not). Since the curbs disappeared so long ago, each corner has actually had what amounted to its own wheelchair ramp for generations — but now they are freshly concreted and the ramps themselves are an industrial yellow so even the most inebriated wheelchair drunks coming out of Parasol’s (and there are several, actually) can easily see where to aim. Can a drunk in a motorized wheelchair be arrested for DWI? Just askin’. What’s weird is to see these brand new curbs and ramps in front of some of the most derelict buildings in the neighborhood.

Oh — the reason the Hornets got bumped from the playoffs is that I went out and bought a Hornets T-shirt the day before their exit. Just so you know.