Kay, this might seem highly melodramatic. Highly. But you can't possibly understand. The last, say... 150 Friday nights of our lives, we have been doing the same thing: take-out from our very favourite Indian joint and a movie. Usually something nerdy like Close Encounters of the Third Kind or 13 Going on 30 or Teen Wolf (although we do have a "no Jennifer Aniston" policy). It was tradition. We always wondered how we'd cope once Alex made ONE-HUNDRED-BIIIILLION dollars from Sweet Thing and we moved to the country. Never thought we'd have to answer that question so soon.
[ image c/o eatingout.co.nz ]
So, yeah. We have confirmed that it's officially gone, as it's been dark with a For Rent sign in the window for days on end. I had hoped it was a family emergency or religious holiday, but my eternal optimism was surely snuffed. It's the end of an era.
How dare they not tell us? They knew us by NAME. We knew them as Charming Man, David Spade, and Turtle (lovingly doled nicknames in absence of real ones). We ordered anniversary dinner from Mt.Everest (not the same, and pricey) and we are reluctantly planning to try Marboli and Naans & More. Banjara delivery times are easily an hour plus, and again, not as good. Nataraj, nothing compares. To. You.
"I can eat dinner in a fancy restaurant, but nothing can take away this blue."
p.s. eternal optimism kicking in for one last breath: at least I might lose weight, right?