Nobody Ever Asks Me How My Day Was Anymore
Would you like to know why nobody asks me how my day was anymore? Because I tell them, in detail, every weird observation and people apparently get swept away by it all, the information crowds inside their heads and they come back to me later fretting over what I've told them.
For example, had you asked me yesterday how my day was I would have told you this:
I left the house on foot (because my bike was stolen from work on Monday, July 1, just 10 minutes before I left to go home) at around 8:40 with the scent of kyphi on my hands because I couldn't resist digging into it for a sniff'a before leaving the house. As I neared the free clinic a few blocks from home I noticed a young woman exiting the clinic with an elderly man. She was crying hysterically and he was attempting to toddle across the street to their car before traffic ran them over. There was a brief moment when I was tempted to ask her if I could help but I had a feeling I could not, so I walked on saying a silent prayer for her. About five minutes later I began to hear what I thought was a dog barking -- a very big, very angry dog -- and I thought, "Oh, great! Now I have to run from a loose dog!" But as I came around the side of a house, I realized the barking was yelling and I found myself in the perimeter of a heated 'discussion' about who gets to say what when they feel like it, mother*ucker! My heart raced a bit as I expected the next sound to be that of a gunshot, but the voices died down and I walked on. As I came upon the street where my work is, I cut across the parking lot behind a business and noticed that a little cottage house on the corner behind the business was billowing smoke from the vents on the roof and from the window in the attic. I stopped and pulled out my phone to call 911 as people began to come out of the house -- little children and their mama, and a few other adults. One of the men climbed up the side of the house to look at the roof while another grabbed a water hose. I called the fire department. Within 7 minutes, the roof was blazing, the fire trucks had arrived, and this family stood on the opposite sidewalk and watched their home burn. I said another silent prayer and I walked on. As I rounded another corner, and with my workplace in sight, a white Suburban pulled into the driveway in front of me and the woman inside shouted, "I don't mean to scare you!" I stepped closer (I didn't have a choice, she was in the path of my destination) and out of the passenger window popped an ice cream sandwich. "I just came from the Salvation Army," the woman said. "They gave me this ice cream and I'll never make it home before it melts. Would you please take it?" So I did. She pulled out of the driveway and I walked on. When I arrived at work, I put the ice cream into the work freezer, sat down at my desk and got busy, feeling very much as if I'd just lived a whole day in less than 45 minutes.
So. There you have it. That's why no one asks me how my day was anymore.
On a much less weird note, I am getting prepared for the Fragrance Salon. First I was rideless, then it was a train I was to take, now it's a caravan of cars (just two, actually) of people coming to SF with me, but not to the Salon. They're heading off to 'hang out' in SF, while I will be left on my own in a fragrant paradise. I can hardly wait.
For example, had you asked me yesterday how my day was I would have told you this:
I left the house on foot (because my bike was stolen from work on Monday, July 1, just 10 minutes before I left to go home) at around 8:40 with the scent of kyphi on my hands because I couldn't resist digging into it for a sniff'a before leaving the house. As I neared the free clinic a few blocks from home I noticed a young woman exiting the clinic with an elderly man. She was crying hysterically and he was attempting to toddle across the street to their car before traffic ran them over. There was a brief moment when I was tempted to ask her if I could help but I had a feeling I could not, so I walked on saying a silent prayer for her. About five minutes later I began to hear what I thought was a dog barking -- a very big, very angry dog -- and I thought, "Oh, great! Now I have to run from a loose dog!" But as I came around the side of a house, I realized the barking was yelling and I found myself in the perimeter of a heated 'discussion' about who gets to say what when they feel like it, mother*ucker! My heart raced a bit as I expected the next sound to be that of a gunshot, but the voices died down and I walked on. As I came upon the street where my work is, I cut across the parking lot behind a business and noticed that a little cottage house on the corner behind the business was billowing smoke from the vents on the roof and from the window in the attic. I stopped and pulled out my phone to call 911 as people began to come out of the house -- little children and their mama, and a few other adults. One of the men climbed up the side of the house to look at the roof while another grabbed a water hose. I called the fire department. Within 7 minutes, the roof was blazing, the fire trucks had arrived, and this family stood on the opposite sidewalk and watched their home burn. I said another silent prayer and I walked on. As I rounded another corner, and with my workplace in sight, a white Suburban pulled into the driveway in front of me and the woman inside shouted, "I don't mean to scare you!" I stepped closer (I didn't have a choice, she was in the path of my destination) and out of the passenger window popped an ice cream sandwich. "I just came from the Salvation Army," the woman said. "They gave me this ice cream and I'll never make it home before it melts. Would you please take it?" So I did. She pulled out of the driveway and I walked on. When I arrived at work, I put the ice cream into the work freezer, sat down at my desk and got busy, feeling very much as if I'd just lived a whole day in less than 45 minutes.So. There you have it. That's why no one asks me how my day was anymore.
On a much less weird note, I am getting prepared for the Fragrance Salon. First I was rideless, then it was a train I was to take, now it's a caravan of cars (just two, actually) of people coming to SF with me, but not to the Salon. They're heading off to 'hang out' in SF, while I will be left on my own in a fragrant paradise. I can hardly wait.
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