So Richmond suddenly has a coffee house. It’s called Live Wire, and they’ve got a logo and that browny-orange paint on the walls. There’s a stage up front and an XBox in the back, and they’re so hip they’re standard.
This is distinctly unfair. I’m moving to Louisville more or less for good in two weeks, and my mom is selling her house, so I’ll probably never live in Richmond for any length of time again. And now they get a coffee house, when I’ve been hoping and wishing for something of the sort for like ten years.
It looks like it’s doing good business, anyway. I can only imagine the hipster pressure that must have been building up all this time, without a hot spot in which to smoke and chill, and it’s clearly on the loose now. Two of Caitlan’s friends (well, my friends too) played guitar and sang their original songs tonight as Horn-Rimmed Pop Explosion, which is not a bad band name at all, and I was happy to see that Erin Mic (another GSP refugee) works there now. It beats Wal-Mart.
So yeah, we went to see that, and then I came back here and gave Idaho’s bowl a thorough scrubbing. I realize that he’s a betta and used to dirty water, and could probably care less if his bowl is sparkling, so it’s much more about my aesthetic sensibilities than his quality of life. Then again, so is owning a fish.
And for the record, I can’t believe I’ve kept him alive this long (or rather, that he’s stayed alive in spite of me). I know bettas are hardy, but my family home is known in fish circles as The Pit Of Death By Morning. We used to kill fish faster than they made new ones. I thought it was a religious obligation.
Coffee house hangouts! Fish stories! I’m such a damn blogger. If I start recommending obscure brands of spinach, please shoot me.
