National Post round 2

I'm not feeling the drink this morning. Feeling flat. Not bad. Not down. Just flat. Just normal. What is wrong with normal? Could be a thesis is that somewhere. But I'm rarely normal. I'm either feeling rough - hungover or suffering from back pain or I'm feeling inspired - high on life; tapped into the muse; drinking my own drink. My 6 year old daughter has been dutifully dropped at her 10 am art class and I am at a cafe - Euro-style - Le Gourmande at Queen and Spadina. Double espresso, chocolate croissant and Saturday National Post. The Post has been recommended by Pinot Paul. I am assuming that on Saturdays only (and despite it's being labelled by Leftists as a Third Reich Rag), the Post is brimming with drink. While I'm certainly no wannabe fascist - and am certainly not implying that Pinot Paul is either - I am open to the possibility of all drink - the drink inside me, the drink inside a glass...and of course the drink inside the heart of great writing. Give me great writing this morning. Get me out of this disturbing state of equilibrium.