a peek inside the fishbowl

Piper helped me realize something this morning: When you start your day with love, it will probably be a good day. I’m happy we thought of it during a particularly good scritching.

Thank you Piper!

I had a rather extraordinary weekend and I have to organize my thoughts a bit before I plunge into it all, so I will have to put that aside for now. Today I wanted to jot a few thoughts down about USING STUFF before my brain explodes.

It’s something I’ve written about before…  the idea of using up those all those pretty candles and soaps and special bubble bath I have kicking around the house instead of admiring them from afar and saving them for, what exactly I don’t know. It’s something I’ve started to do more often, and it’s made me a happier person. Why not light a candle at dinner? Or use the fancy soap? It’s such a small thing, and I’m thinking the general idea can extend other places too.

I found myself rushing to the grocery store after a day at the office yesterday. It’s my least favourite time to go. (I suspect I am not alone in this!) I am tired, hungry, and cranky, as is practically everyone else in the store. The shelves are empty, the cashiers harried, and of course I forgot half of my shopping bags at home.

I was done, and pushing the cart out towards the parking lot, skidding and sliding all the way. This particular grocery store does not let you take the cart all the way out to your car. You either have to leave it on the sidewalk behind the barriers and bring your car around, or haul your bags yourself.

There’s a fellow who works at the store as a cart collector. I often see him around the threshold of the store – just inside or out – bringing the carts in and pushing them into their respective rows in the foyer. In the winter he wears a heavy parka, as most of his job has him exposed to the elements. He is very polite. He calls me ma’am and always asks me if I’d like a hand with my groceries. I always say no. And now that I think about it, I’m not sure why I’ve always refused his help. He is a very nice, special, young man.

Sidebar: one time we interacted was sometime in the summer. I was pushing the cart outside – same cart-pushing/grocery hauling drill – when a bag of chips rolled off the front of the cart. Of course, I immediately ran over the thing. There was a large POP. It was like a chip cannon had fired. He saw the whole thing happen. I watched as his mouth formed a big O in surprise. He rushed over to help and immediately offered to fetch me a new bag. I laughed, and declined. Driver error you know.

Anyway, last night this same fellow offered to help me with my groceries. I had a big bin and two bags (one plastic). SURE, I said. I WOULD LOVE YOUR HELP. I had packed the heaviest items in the bin and was grateful. We walked to my car and I popped open the trunk.

“O, you drive a Prius,” he exclaimed breathlessly. I had to lean in to hear him.
“Yes,” I said. “It gets great mileage! I drove it to my mom’s last week and it got 4.6L!” (Why was I talking about mileage? I suppose I was offering this up because he seemed to be a bit of a car buff.)

He was about to turn and leave when just then, someone further up on the sidewalk must have lost her footing and slipped on the ice. She let out a great big, high-pitched, WHOOP.

He turned back to me and mumbled something.

“Pardon me?” I asked.
“She must have been happy you got 4.6L on your trip!”

I agreed. And went on my way.