i have snacks

the older woman said, clutching her plastic grocery bag and purse in hand. she wandered over to the not meager seating area, and i wondered if she would park beside me and jaw. mercifully, she did not. but the damage had been done.

my mind previously occupied with studying turned to snacks. what did she have in the bag. not curious enough to peek, i just kept plugging on through my reading, going over the shelves in my kitchen mentally. i had this snack, and that snack, and a favorite tucked away that i could have brought with me. however, i opted for the non-insulin impacting agave sweetened ice coffee to get me through my morning wheel alignment appointment with the guy from zztop.

what a cruel mistress indeed, to speak so openly about snackage.

after nibbling away like a contented mouse in the corner chair, she wandered through the lobby into the bathroom. a not untidy bathroom for a mechanics shop. it was not small and greasy either, it was adequately stocked of paper and soap, these are the luxuries of life at times like these. the obliging lock on the door was carefully installed, so one must needs use it, or it wouldn't be there. i had hoped others who had to wrestle with the lock had also taken advantage of the ample supply of soap and papertowels.

but my mind wandered with the woman through the door which she did not latch, and let the precious ac leak out. the owner walked up behind her and quietly shut the door. i turned to see another door, corner pocket, which was also ajar, not from the mousey brown mistress, but just from who knows when. and i wondered how much ac was filtering out there. such things matter when it's nearly july and one finds ac in an auto shop.

enter stage left, the mousey woman reappears without clicking the door shut, this time, it goes unnoticed, and now there are two doors leaking precious air conditioning. not to mention my focus leaked by this woman's brazen mentioning of snacks.

now i never did see what was in her bag, she quietly tucked the morsels away. and back at home now, bowls of fruit runneth over, and not a snack to be found that interests me (beyond the slice of malibu rum cake i finished off, as a courtesy so others would not be tempted. i'm good that way).

i have a paper due sunday, and i wonder if i will dream about those snacks.