Last Saturday afternoon, C and I wrapped up work on time [glory be] and went to Ruby Tuesdays for a couple chicken BLTs. Which we’re now hopelessly addicted to; we had back-to-backers over the weekend and I may have talked my parents into meeting me for dinner for another one tonight. It’s a problem. A delicious, panko-encrusted, bacon-topped problem.
When we got home, I was running through my regular paranoid Shop Closing Routine Checklist — Did I lock the front door? Close up the back? Did I leave the walk-in cooler open? Is a lamp on, threatening to burn down the building? — and realized that I left a hot glue pan burning on the design counter from a homecoming corsage I made that morning. I paused the episode of Project Runway I was watching on demand (in my bed, mid-sandwich coma) and headed back downtown.
It took all of 60 seconds…
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