Dear Tim:

It’s me again.  I know I haven’t written you in a long time but I never forgot and I never found anyone better.  I never really thought I would.

I’ll stop by and visit real soon.

st

So I keep having this thing happen when I go to the gas station.  I tell them my member number and they look at me and say something dumb every time.  It’ll be either “Last name?”, or “Last Name xxxxx?”, or “Last name starts with T?”.  This is the worst thing they do in customer service.  They are so full of smiles and constantly holding the door open for me and doing all these things, but then they just don’t know how to address me.

Man, when I was in Texas the hostess at the hotel restaurant used to ask me my last name just so that the waitress could call me Mr.  Why is it so hard or uncomfortable for people here.  The person behind the counter knows my name but refuses to address me in the commonly accepted way.  I don’t know if these people are just uncivilized or what.

Tim, if you get the chance please talk to these people – they are located right next door to you so maybe you know them to talk to them.  What a crazy bunch.

Dear Tim:

I don’t know who to tell.  I’ve just realized today that I’ve been having a recurring dream for years.  Isn’t that weird?  At least, I think – I’m sure it’s been going on for years.  I have such rich memories of it happening over and over again.  Like something I would always do to pass the time.  It’s not like flying with wings though, just walking without ever needing to touch the ground, like a step will take you on forever if you just want it to.  The weightless feeling you get in mid-air before you start to fall.  And if your feet can fly then you don’t fall until you put your foot down.

Oh, and I haven’t been by for coffee for a few days now.  Sorry, but it’s just so busy for me right now.  I mean to stop some days but I’m running late, or heck even running early.  And you know, those bagels are worth coming back for, but somehow they don’t seem exactly like bagels.  Something else really, but I don’t know what.

ttfn.

So I was at the coffee shop that has that bird on the building.  I got a coffee and a muffin.  $2.96.  The girl behind the counter mumbles, “I’m two cents short”, and hands me 2 pennies change for my $3.  Hunh?  The bird owes me 4 cents and she offers me two and tells me she has no more.  Was she out of nickels too?  I didn’t bother asking, I just left.  Y’know the guy behind me in line would have thought I was just being a jerk and it’s not like I really need the 2 pennies, but come on.  If you can’t make change, take the penny away from the till, not from me.  It’s not really about the 2 pennies, but isn’t this stealing?  Man, how do I even explain this to someone who had a debit card before she ever owned a penny?

Maybe I’ll make my own coffee tomorrow morning.