Old guys...
I'm out at breakfast, sitting at the counter at Kimmie's. I can never remember that their stools are too short. So I'm between two old guys and the waitress asks one of them if he'd like more Pepsi.
"What?"
"Would you like a refill?" she asks.
"No!" he coughs, then calls after her: "No mas!"
Nice job, doofus. Not sure you needed to show off your extensive Spanish skills, seeing as how that exchange was in English.
Immediately after that, dude on my left asks, "Where's the blonde girl? Doesn't she work here anymore?"
"Which one?" our patient waitress asks. "There's like three blonde girls that work here."
"The real blonde," he says.
Eyeroll, gross old dude.
Maybe it is time to go sit in a different part of the hospital and work less directly with old guys for a while. Maybe I'm a little tired. As I write, I'm thinking that this falls under the self-righteous indignation category. I'm going to have to chuck those assessments.
My job is about to undergo a major change, and I seem to be cleaning house right now anyway. I just rearranged my bedroom- that felt fantastic. I signed up for Audible on Saturday, and I'm two hours away from finishing This Is Where I Leave You. Tremendous timing... between the book and getting a WAY better interest rate on a consolidation loan, I am thinking a lot about the sadness behind me and the life ahead. I do not want to stagnate, I do not want to be bitter, I do not want to be stubborn and sadly stuck. Onward.
