hours of non-operation

You know what really burns my biscuits?  Willy-nilly hours of operation.  If I approach breaking the laws of physics and completely pooh-pooh basic traffic guidelines, to make it to one’s place of business, during stated business hours, I expect said place to be open.  While I enjoy a sneak out early Friday afternoon as much as the next glorified gadfly, hours of operation exist for a reason.  We haven’t quite reached the Mad Max-esque dystopian future that surely lurks on the bronzed horizon.  Let’s not act like savages people.  Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but I might.

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