Monday, October 03, 2016


I live 2 miles from my workplace. People don’t believe me, but I miss having a longer drive to work. I wouldn’t want to go back to that one hour commute I used to have, but there are some days when I stagger out of the house and into the car, and find myself 6 minutes later planted in front of the damn idiot box here, still bleary eyed, and I wish I had a little longer drive. Just enough time to even catch a story on NPR. The abruptness and shock of arriving at work so quickly some days cannot be measured.

Now that I recall, I used to stop for a coffee at the local gas station. That broke it up a little. But I stopped going in order to save the 10 bucks a week.

One morning there was a smiling woman that seemed to be flirting with me, touching my arm and laughing. But when I got to work I discovered there was a sock stuffed up my shirt where my bicep should been been.
Or the three laborers, in dusty boots and workingmans clothes, standing in front of the coffee bar, smiling and eyes wide, pointing to the different flavors for the coffee like kids in a candy shop. They did not speak English, but their intent was unmistakable. Hazelnut, or French VanilIa? Or were they Pumpkin Spice and whipped cream kind of guys? I smiled all the way back to the car that day.
Then there was a pretty girl I used to see in there. I always wanted to say hello, but never got in proximity to do so. Then one day I found myself in line behind her. I was ready to give her my best “Good Morning” when I noticed her bra tag was hanging out the back of her blouse.
I froze like stone. What to do?
Maybe I should start stopping in for a small coffee again.
And a moment of Zen.

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