Often times, when someone offers you a breath mint, you have to wonder if they are tactfully saying "Your breath needs help."
My boss called me at work the other day and chatted about a number of things. I was really only half listening when she got to the part about free psychiatric care. "I can give you the numbers if you want."
She suddenly had my attention.
"The numbers? For a counselor?" I asked.
"Sure, they have all sorts of services. I'll bring the information on Friday."
I stuttered thanks, hung up the phone and wondered what it means when your boss starts bringing you resources for therapy.
In better news, I randomly searched through local cafes and found one near the water. Once I sat down It took me a few minutes to register the fact that every other patron was male. Not just any class of male, but the fisherman class.
Grizzled, tough, and for the most part much older than I. Friendly, though. The gentleman at the next table commented on the weather keeping him from putting the second coat of paint on his boat. He was reading a newspaper and having a hamburger and fries for breakfast. He finished his meal and left, wishing me a good day. Nice guy.
I finished up my omelet and was then astonished as the waiter set down the check only to take it back a while later, saying "That guy paid for your meal, so you're all set."
Nothing at that moment could have hit me like that did, and my morning was all glitter and glory from that point on. There are times when exactly what you need is to be picked out and taken care of, and that time was mine. Wherever you are, fisherman, thanks.
My friend, Marie, and her boyfriend left a party recently at the same time I did. Marie went back to say goodbye to someone, and her boyfriend and I ended up confusing each other because it looked like both of us were ready to shake hands. It turned into one of those weird situations where you keep offering your hand and pulling it back and then offering again because the other person is doing the exact same thing, just one beat off.
"What are we doing?" he asked, leaning down just a little. So I leaned, too.
"I don't know," I said.
"Whatever it is, it's low."
This kept going until Marie came back and looked at us oddly. By that point I was laughing, but I managed to explain that we had a handshake so secret, we didn't know it.
My boss called me at work the other day and chatted about a number of things. I was really only half listening when she got to the part about free psychiatric care. "I can give you the numbers if you want."
She suddenly had my attention.
"The numbers? For a counselor?" I asked.
"Sure, they have all sorts of services. I'll bring the information on Friday."
I stuttered thanks, hung up the phone and wondered what it means when your boss starts bringing you resources for therapy.
In better news, I randomly searched through local cafes and found one near the water. Once I sat down It took me a few minutes to register the fact that every other patron was male. Not just any class of male, but the fisherman class.
Grizzled, tough, and for the most part much older than I. Friendly, though. The gentleman at the next table commented on the weather keeping him from putting the second coat of paint on his boat. He was reading a newspaper and having a hamburger and fries for breakfast. He finished his meal and left, wishing me a good day. Nice guy.I finished up my omelet and was then astonished as the waiter set down the check only to take it back a while later, saying "That guy paid for your meal, so you're all set."
Nothing at that moment could have hit me like that did, and my morning was all glitter and glory from that point on. There are times when exactly what you need is to be picked out and taken care of, and that time was mine. Wherever you are, fisherman, thanks.
My friend, Marie, and her boyfriend left a party recently at the same time I did. Marie went back to say goodbye to someone, and her boyfriend and I ended up confusing each other because it looked like both of us were ready to shake hands. It turned into one of those weird situations where you keep offering your hand and pulling it back and then offering again because the other person is doing the exact same thing, just one beat off.
"What are we doing?" he asked, leaning down just a little. So I leaned, too.
"I don't know," I said.
"Whatever it is, it's low."
This kept going until Marie came back and looked at us oddly. By that point I was laughing, but I managed to explain that we had a handshake so secret, we didn't know it.
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