Sometimes it just comes over me, the bug up my butt over some little thing,and to let off a little steam I go blue.
"You know it's not for you." A running joke with Gary at the Post Office regarding the usual addressee of packages delivered to our P.O. Box.
"Yeah, I know. It's got some foreign writing on it."
"It's from China."
"Maybe it's a baby. You know, Chinese babies are all the rage now."
"It's a parcel."
Yes, it is small, so maybe it is a partial.
"A parcel." Nary a smile.
Then it's on to BiMart, kinda like a cross between KMart and CostCo, only smaller and employee owned. Co-owner Linda is awaiting my check-out. We have history.
"Hey there. How are you today?"
"Fine, thank you."
"You still have that tattoo, I see." She is referring to the 2" x 3/16" black line I have on my left forearm, my ode to minimalism.
"Yeah, not much I can do about that. Funny thing is, my newest one if already fading." I then proceed to pull up the right sleeve of my t-shirt to show her the letter that signifies the first letter of DW's name. "The guy didn't do a very good job."
"Just ink from a pen?'
"And a safety pin, nothing fancy. I suppose I could have protested but he was bigger than me and we were in a confined space for an extended period of time."
Now, she laughed.