Another day of asking just to ask. Some days I shoot for the moon, and others, I reach for the filth between my toes and stop stretching because my lower back hurts...
I was sitting in Starbucks, writing. My neighbor was grading papers. I asked, "Are you grading papers?"
He replied yes. We talked about his papers. We talked about grading. And then we stopped talking.
Ok. Fine. It was lame. I didn't buy anything but some avocados and tomatoes at the supermarket. Oh, and I had lunch at the divine Burger Lounge and asked the waiter for ketchup. I didn't plan my career or embark on a funky new adventure.
I had a macchiato and made small talk. Some days, that's precisely what's needed.
Gained: Human interaction during a long stretch of work.
But wait? What's this? A second asking, creeping up out of the shadows?Could it be?!
After dinner, Mr. A and I went for a walk. Our conversation rolled around to dessert. We were craving ice cream, but every restaurant around the neighborhood was closed.
"We have some strawberry ice cream in the freezer," he pointed out, relieved.
"We do?" I asked, nervously.
"Yeah, I found it in the back, stuffed into a plastic bag. So we're saved."
He was beaming. I was... not. He found my stash! My secret ice cream stash! The stuff I keep in the back of the freezer for emergencies, hidden in a nondescript bag so no one else will be tempted... because anything left in front of the freezer disappears about 12 hours after we buy it. Last time I bought a pint of Haagen Daaz strawberry, which Mr. A insists he doesn't like, I found the container empty -- still in the freezer. Taunting me. So the next pint of strawberry, I hid. For later. For seeecret eeeating.
Of course, I should have known he would find it... since besides being a talented technical type and an excellent dancer, he also has these foraging skills that are fine tuned for sweets and chocolates. When we travel, he finds exotic candies and pastries. At home, no chip is left unchomped.
So I explained why the ice cream "just happened" to be in a plastic bag shoved in the darkest corner of the freezer, behind the okra. And then I asked, "Could we stop by AM/PM and pick up something else? I'm kind of... saving that... for later."
Gained: A fresh pint of Ben and Jerry's Vanilla Caramel Fudge.
