Years ago, my husband took me to brunch at a particular diner in downtown because he thought I would like the name. Let’s just say it was because I was writing my werewolf books at the time.
The diner moved to Wolf Street here in the city. I never made it to that location, but when they took over the former hotdog stand near where I was working, I was in seventh heaven. The. Best. Hamburgers. Ever. The counter people got to know me and my order very well.
Then one day, no one answered the phone.
This went on for a week or so. No sign on the restaurant (I looked). About a month later, someone did answer the phone and told me they were relocating, I should try the new place. Um, no. Wouldn’t work for my lunch hour.
I passed by their “new” location several times over a couple of years, always on my way to or from somewhere when stopping for a meal wasn’t feasible. Then I saw on social media that location was closing and they were moving closer to where I live. Hallelujah! I just couldn’t forget those hamburgers.
They spent several months remodeling the new site. I kept trying to get there, but life. Until I managed to book my car inspection at a time that would allow me to stop in have lunch. Except when I got there, there was a sign on the door. They were abandoning yet another building and moving back to their “original” location in one of the northern suburbs.
My husband thinks they’re criminals. I don’t know what to think. They seem to building hop every two to three years.
Boy do I miss those burgers.
PS: Starting this month, I will be blogging every other week. Hope to continue to see you here!
