I took my ball and went to Twitter, now I'm bringing it back where it belongs.

One post a day. No refunds, no regrets.

On the weekends I meander down to Philz for a morning cup of coffee. I pay $5 to shelter for a moment amidst the pleasant peculiarity of a coffee haus that plops a honkin' great grey monolith of an ancient ATM smack dab in the center of an ever-shifting mandala with arms of overstuffed armchairs and spokes formed from old wooden park benches. Come for the coffee, stay for the calculated eccentricity.

This morning one of the cashiers kindly helped me seat a disposable lid atop my steaming styrofoam cup. He's an elderly gentleman with a passion for jaunty headwear, reliably classy when it comes to both his service and his sense of personal style; when I complemented him on his facility for fixing flimsy coffee cup lids, he smiled and claimed it was an ancient secret.

There ought to be more ancient secrets.