My father is far more practical than I.
When he was in college, and ballpoint pens cost a fortune, he used to use an eye dropper to refill the little plastic tube in his expensive Bic ball points with fountain pen ink. When ball points are cheap and plentiful, I insist on spending a fortune on fountain pens, which often go wrong.
Everything's a luxury. Even writing.
Meanwhile, the miserable couple is no longer entirely so miserable in my smoky Richmond bar (perhaps in a nod to sex and Sufism, I'll give up tobacco altogether). The young lady is surrounded by six friends--mostly female, but two males. She seems to be the center of attention, and the more attention she gets, the more miserable her paramour seems to be. Or so it seemed until my view was blocked by a rather heavy set man standing at the end of the bar...Posted by Ideofact at March 18, 2008 11:05 PM