Der Brucer has decided he doesn't want dinner.
His daughter and family came by, and took him to lunch. I was, of course, at work (as I usually am on Sunday, which is very convenient for them because they can always say I was invited, too, but was at work). Lunch was at the local Outback, where der B had the crab-stuffed shoeleather shrimp. And the grandlads misbehaved while they all went shopping, which doesn't surprise me.
Lousy food, misbehaving grandlads... maybe I didn't miss that much.
But now I get to miss dinner. Bleh. Not good, when I've got one of my depressions coming on.