As you know, I stayed at Pam’s house last night. (See yesterday’s blog.) For breakfast, Pam forced me to go to Dunkin Donuts. I wanted to stay home and eat bran cereal, but she made me go. It would have been rude not to.
I was browbeat into eating a strawberry frosted donut for breakfast. With orange juice. I know, I know: strawberry frosted donuts with orange juice? Yuck. But what can you do? I’d planned on eating healthy bran cereal (not really: I’d brought strawberry poptarts) and I had to offset the badness of the donut with something good for me.
We were at Dunkin Donuts with Pam’s 12-year old daughter, Faith. I watched in horror as Faith hunched over her donut and almost bit into it. I hollered out, “WAIT! I’ve gotta take a picture!” and dashed the donut from Faith’s hand before she could eat it.
Pam immediately protested, “I don’t wanna be in a picture!”
“You won’t be.” I mean, seriously?
I’ve known Pam since I was 18 years old. Does she think I don’t know how much she hates being in pictures? It’s been 21 stinkin’ years. We all went out to eat together 4 times a week for 10 years. I (sort of) held her hand while she was in labor, and stayed up all night long in the hospital waiting room for 10 hours until Faith was born. I visited her house every single day for weeks after the baby was born, bringing her food. I’ve beaten her at Uno more times than can be counted. We’ve celebrated 15 Christmases together. We have a history.
I think I know by now that she turns violent when I try to photograph her.
I began arranging the donuts on some napkins. Pam and Faith tried to help, but they were dropping the donuts onto the napkins, willy-nilly. I had to smack their hands away so I could arrange things the right way.
“Why are you putting them so close together? We’re not sitting that close together.”
“Pam! Settle down. I know what I’m doing.”
“But we’re so hungry. Why can’t we eat our donuts now?”
“For crying out loud! It’ll only take a second! There, I’m done!” People just aren’t willing to make sacrifices for art these days. But when I showed them the picture, they were appropriately awed. Or else they were pretending to be awed because they didn’t want me to have to rearrange the donuts and keep them from eating their breakfast.
Then we all went to work at the TotSwap. Here’s a quick picture I got of the TotSwap before people arrived. This is only 1/3 of the building. I don’t have a proper lens to get a picture of the entire room. As you can tell, it’s insanity. That’s a lot of kid junk.
You can barely even tell what you’re looking at. Here’s a close up of just the baby toy table, so you can sort of see what it’s like.
My job was to check people out. We have these little mats to stand on, so our little feet don’t get too tired. My feet were getting only partly tired because I borrowed Pam’s super comfy shoes since my sandals were still wet from the rain.
The cashiers at the TotSwap also each get a little chair that’s pretty uncomfortable with a hard metal back and a lumpy cushion on the seat. It’s reminiscent of an iron maiden. They tell us that we can sit on the iron maiden chair while we check out, but we can all tell that they don’t really mean it, or they’d give us nice fluffy chairs. But sometimes, between checking out, you’re so desperate to rest your feet that you’ll even sit on the iron maiden chair.
When the checkout person next to me wandered off to eat or do something equally frivolous, someone stole her floor mat. And later, when she flitting about returning an item to the floor, I stole her chair. Well, someone had stolen mine. I figured that by the time she got back she could steal someone elses. Sort of like hot potato. When the music stops, who’s without the chair?
When she got back, she stood there gazing at her little work space, blinking and muttering to herself, “First they took my mat. Then they took my chair.”
If she started muttering about her red stapler, I would have gotten worried. Show of hands, who loves Office Space? I wonder if it’s funny if you don’t work in an office. Anyone who’s worked in an office has lived at least some of that movie. Doesn’t it start with that traffic jam scene where all the other lanes move except the one you’re in? I think it does. Oooo. Look! It’s streaming on Netflix. Um…I’ll be back later…
Picture of the day:
I got home earlier than expected and Darling Husband said, “Let’s get Chinese take out.” So we did. I took pictures in the lobby while we waited for our food to cook.