The weather is way better than average for your weirdo weather town.
Lunch is good.
You, uh, have a few conversations with cats.
And try out your new iPhone camera toys on them. (Because really, what are they going to do about it?)
Sarah wore lion glasses for a minute.
Kids.
Everything doesn't work for days, DAYS, in the worst kinds of ways, but then you take your story back again (because you can, because you have to) and the not working part doesn't matter anymore. That's the best part. That's the part that makes it work.
Sometimes I talk to strangers and sometimes they enjoy it.
I was in the grocery tonight buying some things to make a chick pea salad that Kalyn recommended, that for some reason I thought about when I was driving home. Also I went and bought some extra stuff because, who am I kidding, I am as obsessed with the grocery store as I loathe it.
One thing that blasted Snowmageddon did was get me deeper than ever into cooking, so I suppose I have it to thank for my newest expensive hobby. Also it caused me to obsess about the grocery store. This video below is how pathetic it got, pretty much. Keep in mind that this is a few days after the second major storm. There are two and half feet of snow outside of my window and I am wrapped in swaddling clothes. You really shouldn't watch this.
Keep in mind that I'd had actual conversations with maybe three people who I actually wanted to talk to in the two weeks leading up to this pathetic monologue, a two-week period when I had mostly been trapped inside my house.
Anyway, it's not February anymore, or yet, thank God. (And if this February is like that one? I will be on the first available plane out of this hellhole to the Keys.) ANYWAY. Tonight, thankfully I had few enough items for the express line, and remarkably (for these days of self checkout hell) there was not only a checker but a bag boy -- a bag boy with a linguistic axe to grind.
"I am not a bag BOY. I am a bagGER," he said to his colleague, the gender neutrally-named checker, who also happened to be a teenaged boy. "It sounds less deMEANing."
The checker ignored him.
"How about grocery packaging facilitator?" I suggested. It just popped into my head. I edit a lot of resumes, plus I liked this kid. He had a way about him.
Sometimes I talk to strangers. Sometimes I am even helpful.
"I LOVE that," he said. "That is not demeaning at ALL."
He looked at me askance, wondering, I guess, how I pulled this description out of my ass.
"I'm a career counselor," I said. "Inventing descriptive terms for jobs is sort of what I do."
I picked up my environmentally friendly reusable bag and left. I could hear him behind me.
"Grocery packaging facilitator. Grocery packaging facilitator. Dude, I am totally using that."
And, yes, it may have been quite stupid. But I listened to him dammit. And I can't remember when I've left the grocery store laughing out loud, so that's something, I guess.
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