It's the simple things in Doha that sometimes make it such a pleasurable place to live. I stopped at our little grocery in the complex the other evening for some milk. (I refrain from using the word compound as one pictures guards with
Uzis walking the perimeter, which I'll inform you that we
no longer have. Rumors were that they didn't
really have any bullets, but they had my respect all the same, well, except the one that wore flip flops. I always wondered how a chase scene would play out.) Anyhoo, the clerk was all apologetic that he didn't have my usual order of skim milk, but not to fear,
the milk truck would be coming early the next day. Lo and behold I open my door to a ringing doorbell the next morning to find my favorite little grocer with "fresh milk" in hand. I mean, you gotta love it.
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You be worth special delivery in any country girl...
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