The lady behind the counter of a local grocery store asks me if I wanted the soap in the same bag as my other groceries. I agreed, not expecting the soap to infect my chips and dip.
On the top left hand side of one of the dryers at the local Laundromat there were instructions. It read:
1. Check machine for children, pets, and foreign objects before loading the machine.
I went on to skip steps two through five knowing that if I got the first step right I was home free.
As the lady left the local Laundromat, she turns to me and asks, “You aren’t gonna steal my clothes are you?”
“No,” I replied. “I don’t wear woman’s clothes.”
“Alright then. I’ll come back when the load is done.”
With that the door shuts behind her.
The season had changed; It was warm now. Warm enough for a homeless man to shed his top couple layers and use them as a blanket to take a nap in the park.
I felt like I was the drummer in a band. The one with the largest instrument in front of me, setting the pace but I could never find the rhythm. The music was set by my wife. She doesn’t like music. I don’t either, apparently.
Walking down the street, on my way to lunch, a homeless man asks me to buy him “food from McDonalds.” I was on my way to Burger King with money burning through my pocket.
“Sorry.” I said.
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