A Few Pennies for My Thoughts?
I con 5 dollars out of my babysitter when she gets to work for her shift. Lovely, borrowing from my employee. That has the makings of a wonderful head huncho of a major cooperation.
Whew. Good thing I have no plans of doing that.
I just really think I deserve to have a coffee on the bus today. Besides, to be honest-is it really called borrowing if she will have no use for it while I am gone?
When I finally step out my door, I feel fantastic. We are starting to get many more nicer days than nasty ones.
I almost wish I had not put on any perfume. The birds are loud and surely flirting. The trees still look sad and are mostly bare, but with no leaves; the sky is opened-up more and gets a much deserved chance to show off the colour he looks best in. Today, everyone will be smiling.
I think to myself, 'Spring should be an emotion. It would be one of the purest.'
I get to the coffee shop and stand in line rummaging in my book bag for the free muffin I have won from the store's spring contest.
One extra-large two cream, four sugar and a banana nut muffin. This would be my last meal request if I was a death-row inmate.
The line-up is long, but I make it to my bus stop with five minutes to spare. I am happy to sit with my own thoughts.
I see the bus approaching and I reach for my bus pass inside my bag. It is not usually where it is. I only sigh, because it is not usually where it usually is, anyway. I start sorting through the bag with fruitless results.
The bus doors swing open, I stomp my foot. I am annoyed. I am also thankful for my employee. I approach the doors. I drop my coffee. The whole thing.
I stand there, motionless, mouth agape at the growing puddle of beige spreading through out the crab grass and dirt. I look up into the bus drivers eyes.
"Did you see that?" I speak, helplessly.
He nods. He understands the personal tragedy.
I fish in my jeans and pay to get on the bus.
I sit in my seat, counting out the remaining change only to realize I am 7 cents short for another coffee.
I root in my book bag for my pen and journal.
The first thing I pull out is my bus pass.
"Shit."
( To Be Continued )
I con 5 dollars out of my babysitter when she gets to work for her shift. Lovely, borrowing from my employee. That has the makings of a wonderful head huncho of a major cooperation.
Whew. Good thing I have no plans of doing that.
I just really think I deserve to have a coffee on the bus today. Besides, to be honest-is it really called borrowing if she will have no use for it while I am gone?
When I finally step out my door, I feel fantastic. We are starting to get many more nicer days than nasty ones.
I almost wish I had not put on any perfume. The birds are loud and surely flirting. The trees still look sad and are mostly bare, but with no leaves; the sky is opened-up more and gets a much deserved chance to show off the colour he looks best in. Today, everyone will be smiling.
I think to myself, 'Spring should be an emotion. It would be one of the purest.'
I get to the coffee shop and stand in line rummaging in my book bag for the free muffin I have won from the store's spring contest.
One extra-large two cream, four sugar and a banana nut muffin. This would be my last meal request if I was a death-row inmate.
The line-up is long, but I make it to my bus stop with five minutes to spare. I am happy to sit with my own thoughts.
I see the bus approaching and I reach for my bus pass inside my bag. It is not usually where it is. I only sigh, because it is not usually where it usually is, anyway. I start sorting through the bag with fruitless results.
The bus doors swing open, I stomp my foot. I am annoyed. I am also thankful for my employee. I approach the doors. I drop my coffee. The whole thing.
I stand there, motionless, mouth agape at the growing puddle of beige spreading through out the crab grass and dirt. I look up into the bus drivers eyes.
"Did you see that?" I speak, helplessly.
He nods. He understands the personal tragedy.
I fish in my jeans and pay to get on the bus.
I sit in my seat, counting out the remaining change only to realize I am 7 cents short for another coffee.
I root in my book bag for my pen and journal.
The first thing I pull out is my bus pass.
"Shit."
( To Be Continued )
Comments
But then i take another look and realize who is writting, it is you, the teller of tales, the only person that can see the best out of the worst scenerio, i realize that i did make a quick conclusion.