You are what you eat

Daylight came about three hours too soon to Mrs. Hall. For some reason, her eyelids weren't working- no amount of effort seemed capable of opening them. Some Saturdays, after particularly jovial Fridays at Daniel's, were harder to cope with than others.
"Com'n, it's a beautiful day. Let's get up and have breakfast at Wegman's", said Mr. Hall, in a voice that seemed altogether too bright for the early hour. The prospect of someone else attending to the coffee however, was sufficient to the cause; Mrs. H. rose and threw on something approximating appropriate attire.
It is common knowledge around central New York (and/or possibly the five or six million strong viewing public of David Letterman*- see below...) that everyone goes to Wegman's. A wonderful grocery store in it's own right, it also manages to draw a healthy crowd of coffee swilling, dessert addicted New York Times reading people watchers. While Mrs. Hall is more likely to be taking advantage of the free wi-fi than reading the newspaper, Wegman's still represents to her the quintessential (highly caffeinated) watering hole to the masses.
Today was no exception. Despite the early hour, the parking lot was already showing signs of becoming the dangerous death match that it usually is, as patrons jockey their luxury SUVs for the closest slots. Parking a safe distance away, they wafted through the automatic doors on a breeze of freshly brewed desire. The coffee carafes stood patiently at attention, filled and steaming. As they paid for their pistachio and walnut muffins, Mr. Hall suggested they sit upstairs for a better view of the action. "There, there, " he soothed, "Isn't that better?"
They sat and looked over the expanse of fresh baked goods, deli meats, specialty foods and flowers. Slowly, Mrs. Hall could feel her senses coming back to her as she inhaled the sweet, sweet smell of copious discretionary spending. The coffee was pretty good, too.
"I'm alright. Let's sit here for a little bit. After we hit the freshly flown in overnight from Washington State organic/probiotic produce section, I think I'll slide over to the magazine rack and indulge in some of those guilt-inducing home and lifestyle issues. I love the way the houses look in them but that Stewart woman always makes me feel like a slacker." Satisfied that Mrs. H. was finally her old self, Mr. Hall just smiled and followed behind. Another weekend was well on it's way.