Today I didn't go into work. Instead I slept late, got up and went for a long walk and a skim milk latte. On my walk I saw 4 cats and petted two of them.
I got my coffee to go. It was a good coffee, which was a relief, as the world seems to have been playing a game of coffee lottery with me lately at ghastly unfavorable odds. Coffee can only be good or bad. If it is not good, it cannot be ok; the rules of coffee stipulate that anything that doesn't taste good taste shit. I get sick of people telling me how great a particular cafes’ coffee is. Tell me that it is not shit and I'm on board.
I grab my coffee and continue to walk. I start to cross the road. A red 4WD is waiting to turn left, slowly inching forward, waiting for me to get out of the way. It has a vanity license plate. FIDDLR.
I walk past a sign in a shop that reads, "Fancy Yourself Fiddling". I stop and stare at it perhaps for a little too long because the shopkeeper comes out and asks me if I need any help. I do. But she couldn't.
I was strolling now. I had dropped the pace and come to the bottom of my coffee. I walked past a park where a man in a suit was sitting on a bench, unwrapping the cling-wrap from his sandwich. His sandwich was balanced on his lap and he was trying to fish something out of his backpack that was placed beside him. While his attention was not on his sandwich a gust of wind blew the top slice of white bread right off of the rest of the sandwich and onto the ground. Should have used more butter.
He quickly grabbed for the slice of bread and picked it off the ground. Then, in a manner of trying to look like he wasn't checking for witnesses, he cocks his head around to see if there was any witnesses that saw him retrieve the bread of the ground. I looked away. Satisfied with the cleanliness of his bread and satisfied that there were no onlookers he proceeded to eat his lunch.It was time I went home and did some work. I was glad I went for a walk.