Kar-ma failure

Our friendly guerrilla vegetable deliverers had a special on blackberries last night, so I ordered a box for pie and jam. (And also a bag of carrots - the wife suggested I make carrot cake for scripting tomorrow.)

They show up around five but the pizza place they were delivering to doesn't serve until 5:30, so that's about when we left. It's only five minutes away from us. As we approached I found a parking place, but a Beemer was being a mild jerk and trying to back into it... I didn't feel like a confrontation, so I ceded the spot and drove along. We found another space almost instantly anyway.

Then we found out that we were at the wrong pizza restaurant.

Piccino... Pizzetta... they sound kind of alike. Even though all the e-mails referenced the correct one, I had conflated them. Quick trip back home to check and then drove across the city to the correct one. Where, of course, it was virtually impossible to find parking.

(Fortunately we found some before I imploded. I hate hate hate looking for parking - it's perhaps my least favorite thing about living in the city.)
At least our dinner there was good.