About Gratitude and Groceries
Post 128:
So I’m doing the bit tonight where it’s raining and I’ve got all my hands full of groceries. My socks are starting get that creepy soaked feeling, I’m cold, and there’s the door to my building, just ahead. The bags are slipping from my hands, threatening to spill everywhere. This would not be good. Half the stuff would get ruined. I’d have to go back and do the whole rotten show over again. If I wait for it not to be raining, I might die.
The weather sucks here.
I digress.
So what’s next? Oh yeah, I’ve got to do that maneuver where you transfer all the stuff into one hand because I didn’t plan ahead. My frigging keys are in my pocket and entry requires a swipe of the fob thing. Twice. Frigging security. Keeping me safe and stuff. The nerve.
Anyway, the transfer maneuver has me freaking out, because there should’ve been some double-bag action and we’re dealing with some slipshod plastic at best. These sacks are tested for maybe a few rolls of toilet paper, and I’m rocking canned goods hardcore.
But wouldn’t you know it: some dude-bro comes out of nowhere and opens the door for me. No transfer maneuver required. I’m minimally soaked and the goods are still above ground. First thing I did was obvious—I said, “thanks so much, man.”
I said it like I meant it, because I did. I mean, gratitude knowing no bounds type of situation. The little things can be totally huge and all that.
But then the dude-bro says, “it’s your lucky day.” Says it weird, too.
I’m still reveling in the glory of the goodness of my fellow man, and he has to ruin it with the awkward delivery of some crappy comment.
You know what’s sucks? I have no right to judge the dude-bro. He helped me out. So I have to be guilty and grateful at the same time, I suppose.
I’m cool with that. “Feelings” can’t stack up to dry groceries. Thanks weird dude-bro. My gratitude and sundries are unsullied.
Cheers peeps. See you after.
