So, last week when I was chatting with our India office, I kept hearing a knock on my door. I couldn't answer because I was tied to the computer by headphones, and the computer was tied to the desk by an internet cable, and two roomsful of people would have been able to see me leave, but the knocking came back just as the meeting was ending, and it was my next door neighbor. Kind of an awkward middle-aged looking guy. He's lived there for a couple of months now and has recently taken to asking if I need help getting my bicycle and/or banjo into my apartment. (I always seem to be carrying too much stuff when he's walking by). I always tell him not to worry, that I can get it, and haven't had much interaction with him beyond that.
Then the meeting is over and I go to see who is knocking, and there he is. He explains that he needs some tomatoes for a BLT. Odd. So, I go get some from my fridge. I had a whole bunch of those heirloom mini-tomatoes from Trader Joes and wasn't even going to be able to finish them before I left for LA. I said it wouldn't be necessary, but he kept insisting on returning a tomato at some point. Hence, this note, apparently.
I don't even know what else to say about that.
Ah, here is knocking again...
...and here is the replacement tomato:
It's one of those round red ones, so not the kind with salmonella. I got it on Thursday, but you weren't here, he says, so the vine is no longer attached.
??
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