Well. It has been a day.

The $585.50 speeding ticket was just the start. You’d think I clocked in at lightspeed for that obscenity, but oh no, no, 32 mph.

I could go on. But I won’t. (I will, however, fight this thing*.)

People, please be cautious at the 40th and Butler intersection. I am not the first person I know to get pulled over and grossly fined there for following the flow of traffic.

The rest of the day involved such memorable hits as: “You Think You’ve Lost Your Wallet But It’s Really Just Under Your Front Passenger Seat” and “Thanks for Trying to Connect to These Three Conference Calls But Technology and Miscommunication Are Doomed to Fail You,” as well as “Say Farewell to Your Childhood Home (Your Parents are Downsizing Remix).”

Beer was in order. And fried things.

To Park Bruges we went for Rochefort 10 (figgy, plummy, caramelly, complex; but no 8, which is impossible to find in Pittsburgh), tarte flambée sans jambon, and perfect little frites with enough garlic aoli to negate my recent shift toward less dairy, less egg — i.e. I must’ve consumed the byproducts of at least five chickens, a gaggle of cows and perhaps even a goat or two today.

… An Espresso a Mano chocolate croissant may have factored into my post-ticket breakfast. And a Cadbury Crunchie. Thank goodness I stocked up on sweets yesterday at Mon Aimee.

One can never be too prepared.

*I’ve never had a speeding ticket before. Or a parking ticket. Or an accident. Not even a fender bender. Not even detention.