Else what's a heaven for?

I was in the middle of writing a logical, interesting, thoughtful post full of insights and self-reflection, when my mother called. Not content with subjecting me to self-hating vegetarian Korean food and making me crazy about job stuff last night, she called to discuss how they are dropping in on Saturday to pick up the elephants and oh, do I want her to come by on Fri night to help me empty them? Never mind that she was there when my decorators said they'd given up on finding me a bureau.

I could rant a lot more about this, but suffice it to say, her schedule requires me to cancel all my weekend plans, including a hike in the Blue Ridge mountains, to make my life miserable by being even less able to access my day-to-day clothes. 'cuz I'm such a paragon of fashion, I need handicaps like that. I've been alternating between full-blown tears and crockery-throwing rage.

Right, dinner. My brother lives in the culinary wasteland that is midtown middle and bc my father was already grumpy, I didn't dare suggest dinner at Artisanal, so my mother suggested Franchia. I hadn't realized there were different kinds of vegetarian until ekchats mentioned it. Franchia falls into the category of vegetarian where they eat tofu and vegetable mixtures and pretend it's meat, like green tea ramen noodles with "lobster" balls. Which is a fucking waste of time if you ask me - either eat lobster balls or don't, don't get all sanctimonious about it.

Their saving grace was supposed to be that they were listed in a few places as somewhere to go for afternoon tea and they have a menu full of buzzwordy and different teas. Unfortunately, their service is terrible, which I consider an absolute no-no for tea, and I think they messed up the brewing of the teas. I had two: the first picked Korean green tea and the chrysanthemum. It might that I'm just more familiar with Japanese green tea, but the former tasted more like a rice tea than green tea. With the latter, the guy removed the leaves and everything, only for me to discover that I could taste the boiled water more than the chrysanthemum. I tried my father's Korean plum tea, but both my sister and I decided it tastes like cough syrup.

I wish I could call in sick and go run this all off. Instead, I'm going to have some miso soup and omg, deal with stupid requests and eager-beaver intern *mumbles*. I think I might have to declare this a no-holds-barred chocolate day.