A word about Crispy Donut. Being without employment frees me to go about my day sort of willy nilly.  Its very freeing and redeeming to a lifelong nihilist and skeptic about well, most everything.  Crispy is its own little corner of the world, staffed by exotic little Asian vixens provocatively dressed even at five A.M.  At sixty-three they are less of a distraction than they would have been at say, twenty-five.  More important at my age would be regularity.  But their tendency to dress in that manner is not totally lost on me.  Those times when I  have caught myself staring I have felt compelled to say “oh, I’m just here for the donuts!” in an apologetic tone.  I’m never sure if the tip jar is where I should leave my dollar or if I should ask permission to reach across the counter and stuff it in their belt.  Who knew such dilemmas existed in retirement.