As we were closing today, a woman who was using our wi-fi commented on how I joke around with the regulars. I have been with the district for nearly a decade now, and most of my career (such as it is) has been in this one small town. For better or worse, I know a lot of folks.
One particular patron is well known as a blowhard who likes to chat and joke around, so we often just throw it right back. This poor perplexed lady thought for a moment I was serious when I was telling this 70-year-old man I wasn't going to let him borrow an R-rated DVD!
Another regular asked me how I was doing. I hate those empty inquiries, so I try to answer with something unexpected. "Oh, I'm alive...." [pause for a beat] "...Allegedly." She gave the sort of chuckle such a lame joke warrants, but I also got a very loud knee-slapping laugh out of a woman who also walked in at the same time with that loose gait of being under the influence. The overreaction to such a remark certainly reinforced my suspicion she was experiencing life with chemical enhancement.
Now it's time for my non-work-related Dungeons & Dragons game. I know I haven't been writing much. I just haven't had the inspiration. This is basically dipping my toes back in the inkwell, or whatever the right conglomeration of analogies might be. The muses are bitches.
