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Why not?

Hi there, come on in.  Grab a seat if you'd like.  Want something?  Sox, get out of my way.  What?  I'm sorry ... yes, I'm in a lousy mood.  Guess it shows.  Yours isn't any better, so don't try to act all superior and stuff.  Just go put on some music.  No, nothing like that, damn!  Something with guts, something with singular integrity.  That's better, thanks.  Took you long enough.  Excuse me?  Now that's not fair; making me laugh when I'm pissed off.  

I've been watching the anger and diatribe, the multiple postings and passing of worthy words caused by them.  I think I'll take a break.  Just a short one, to give the world of TPM a chance to slow down. 

So let me get you something tonight.  A glass of wine? 

Hi there, come on in.  Another late night, so glad you're still awake and willing to stop by.  Oh my, you do look frazzled.  I understand, the world as we know it has been spinning of late and it's so hard to keep your footing sometimes.  So many voices, so little sense.  Sox, please.  Sorry, you know she can't help it.  Her world revolves around people, love, food and the need to trip the light fantastic with nature every so often.  If you know what I mean.  Speaking of which, she's headed outside.  Let's join her, shall we?

What a beautiful evening.  So calm, even with a gentle breeze blowing from the south.  I know, that breeze is likely to pick up soon, probably this weekend.  Oh, no worries.  You know how it is with those forecast 'cones', about as accurate as a blind man's attempt at a hole-in-one.  I actually know a blind man who plays golf with friends.  Really, really, really good friends.  Who learned long ago to stay out of the way.  I'm off the point, sorry.  Anyway, everything will be all right.  Just a blow, as we say.  But look at the stars tonight!  Twinkling, winking, singing to us.  Can you hear it?  Wonder what lyrics they've written ... just for us, just for tonight.  Hey, honey.  You're ready to go in?  We're not, just yet, so here's the door.  Knew it.  We stay, she stays.

Somebody mentioned a late night picnic the other night.  No, it was last night!  What do you think?  I still have tea, soda, beer and wine, maybe something harder.  Chips, cheese, crackers ... if we try we can come up with something.  No, no, no calories this time of night.  A picnic under a canopy of stars with friends and laughter.  I can actually feel the world slowing down.

I'm going to raid the kitchen.  Join me?    

Hi there, come on in.  You look exhausted.  Once again, I'm terribly late.  I have a strange feeling, though, that I'm not the one thing keeping y'all up this evening.  Add to that a certain element of sleeplessness in your eyes and you've got all the signs of a serious funk.  You're here now, so take a deep breath and find a place to collapse.  The lights are low, I've had the time to put on some softly unobtrusive music and Sox is snoring comfortably.  Grab a pillow or two and tell me what you need tonight.

How about a change of topic from where you've been?  Or, perhaps, where you are right now.  Still trying to let go.  Okay, I'll try ...

On the way home, I needed a few things and since the sidewalks roll up much earlier than I do had few choices.  Found one convenience store open, and it was packed.  Cars lined up at the gas pumps, barely a place to park.  Highly inconvenient.  Inside was just as bad, if not worse.  There were ten people in line before me with more streaming in - made me wonder why more places don't stay open.  I noticed when entering the old man behind the counter.  Sour, severe, kind of scary.  He never looked at anyone, never said a word.  Just got what they wanted if within his reach, rang up their purchases and waited for money.  Didn't even mouth an amount due, it was apparently the customer's job to look at the display on the register.  Gave change and stared at the counter until they got out of the way for the next one.  Start all over again, same ritual.  As I watched the people in line fall in line, I was reminded of the soup Nazi.  They each dutifully obeyed the rules, muttered what they needed and got the hell out of the way.  I took all that as a personal challenge.  While it was clear a smile would break his face, he was going to look at me.  He was going to speak to me.

My turn!  "Hi!  How are you tonight?", with my brightest smile.  No look, but I think I heard "fn".  Can't be sure, his lips didn't move.  I asked for something behind his counter.  "Thank you so much!" and "What's that total?  Oh, yes, I see.  Here you go.  Oh, wait a second.  I think I have the fifty-seven cents.  Just give me one second" ... grinning at him all along.  Took my time.  Filled it with cheerful chatter.  I knew I was driving him up the wall and back down again.  "If I can just get my fingers on that penny - finally, about time, huh?"  Of course, rules dictated that I place the change on the counter.  So I held my hand, encasing the coins, hovering above until he lifted his, palm up, to receive same.  He didn't place the dollar bill owed back to me on the counter, either.  He placed it in my upturned palm.  "Thank you so much, sir.  I hope you have a wonderful rest of the evening!"  He looked at me.  And clearly said, "You, too."  Again, a smile would have probably killed him.  That was all right, though.  Mine was big enough for both of us.

There, you see?  You can smile, too.  Don't turn into him, no matter how bad things get don't ever let it break your face.  Man, have I babbled or what?  On my way to the kitchen, what can I bring for you?