Confession: Despite the fact that I have local and organic produce delivered to my door every week, I occasionally patronize a nearby fast food drive-through for a quick breakfast. I purchase this breakfast with the coins living in the console of my car.
This morning was one of those mornings. I barely had time to put on pants and I definitely did not have time for breakfast. So I found myself in the drive-through. Now I know that there is virtually nothing good about fast food, but here's what I like--it is right on the way to work. It is fast. It is cheap. Aaaaand there is a surprisingly attractive man (okay boy, well, at least 19 or 20, at least) working the window. Kookookachoo Mrs. Robinson. I am happily married. I do not entertain any notions of a tryst with a young fast food worker. But I would rather have a cute boy give me my breakfast than say, a not-so-cute boy.
So I paid for my breakfast sandwich with console coins, per usual. I don't think I've mentioned that I also store old toe and fingernail clippings in this console. I like to pick at my nails. And I don't like to litter. So I put the nail pieces in the console with the intention of throwing them away when I get home. This never happens.
I hand cute drive-through boy my change. I watch him look down at the coins and then he cringes with mild horror, repulsion, or maybe disgust. Because of course I paid cute boy with old quarters and a big, nasty toenail. Why wouldn't I do that? So I laugh maniacally and speed away. What else would I do? Are you kidding me? What is wrong with me? When do I become a calm and collected adult? When does that happen?
The jars are currently irrelevant. It seemed like a solid theme in 2011 and I'm too tired to rethink it. Also, should I even have a blog in 2020?
