Minimalist poet, minimalist lifestyle

I've just pulled a muscle in my left shoulder as I was struggling to remove a large rucksack filled with groceries from my back. I don't understand why they aren't made with quick-release straps that fasten at the front where you can easily reach them.

Weill and Mahoney had started with only five hundred dollars between them, but they had built up a computer business with sales in the millions. Their company employed over two hundred people, and the two executives lived like princes. Almost overnight, things changed. Sales dropped sharply, former customers disappeared, and the business failed. Weill and Mahoney blamed each other for the troubles, and they parted on unfriendly terms.

Five years later, Weill drove up to a decrepit diner and stopped for a cup of coffee. As he was wiping some crumbs from the table, a waiter approached. Weill looked up and gasped. "Mahoney!" he said, shaking his head. "It's a terrible thing, seeing you working as a waiter in a place like this." "Yeah," Mahoney said, curling his lip. "But I don't eat here."