About the Monk's Cellar

Which reminds me that The Monk's Cellar restaurant might have been known to other missionaries as well, perhaps even the Lyle Thomson family so obnoxious and rude to me. Oh, did I call Judy a fatso and maybe shoved her or something at eight years old when she was so annoying at my birthday party? Yes, how rude of me to throw a "Sorry" game piece on the floor in front of the Thomson girls when I lost a game, which so rarely happened. One of the four yellow game pieces always was broken after that. Temper, temper. What a horrible person I am, especially if you only get it from the Thomson girls who only remember me from that year when I was eight years old living in Mexico. It is like I would never be able to grow up and have a life if I had to live on the same planet as the horribly wicked Thomson family, so full of their own haughty self importance, imagining themselves in total ownership of editorialness, perhaps because they lived in Venezuela near the imperiously haughty Hunts and share in their Swedish disdain for the rest of us ordinary mortals, in addition to being not-so-loyal turncoats of another persuasion. As if. Well, I can't win this game, obviously, rigged as it is with the entire planet against me so perhaps I will just have to find myself a comfortable jail cell where I won't have to worry anymore about what to do next. There I will find food and shelter and not have to work for nothing. Life is futile.