Waiting for a table

It appears that Blogger has made some changes that facilitate posting from a smartphone. I'm surprised it's taken them so long. It's still pretty cumbersome, but a lot better than the last time I tried. Net net, this is my first real-time post from the battlefield. [Note: I wrote this about 3 hours ago, and it turns out that the "Publish Post" function doesn't work from my phone. Fortunately, my post was still cached in my phone, so I transcribe it here verbatim.]

I've been waiting for a table at a small but polular restaurant - waiting for a table, and waiting for my sister and her husband to arrive. I've been passing th etime by staring at the outside curve of the right breast of a woman who's stitting about 15 feet away. Her face isn't what I'd call attractive - in fact, her large nose is beakish which, teamed with her thin lips, small eyes and pointed jaw, makes it easy to imagine her looking rather witch-like after age and stress take their toll. Hints of past struggles with acne are apparent. Her figure, on the other hand, is pleasantly proportioned, with slender arms and legs, no paunch that I can discern from how she's seated, and I'd say a large B or slightly undersized C-cup. My position in the vestibule is such that neither she nor her...there's a wedding ring...husband can see my eyes easily, so my observation will go unnoticed.

But I'm memorializing this otherwise unmemorable moment to point out that this type of behavior is so common for me, that I'd been waiting and leering for at least five, maybe ten minutes before I realized that I was staring listlessly at her breast just as I would a TV set with a show that I was only somewhat interested in: amusing enough to hold my attention given a lack of other options, but nothing to get really excited about. All that's missing is a bag of stale chips for me to pick at.

They just got called to their table and walked by. About 5'6" but extra points for the nice décolletage. Now whatever shall I do to kill the time? Maybe I should call my wife.