Weekend at Borders

Went to the grocery today to pick up eggs. The kid at the cash register says to me “The lady of the evening . . . and how are you doing?” Does he have any idea what he just said to me? Is he totally ignorant of the undertones? What are they teaching them at school these days?

The weekend is over. I’m so glad. Never been gladder to see it all slip away.

Craziness on craziness. Been telling all of the girls about the rest of my coffee experiences. About the “I have a seven-year-old back in Cairo” 35-year-old Mohammed. About the old guys who refused to pay the new price for coffee. About being the coffee Nazi. . . . I’ve missed the coffee days.

But right now, I miss sleep.


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