When I’m Cutting Grass

I’ve been accused of talking to myself while cutting grass. I would never debate whether I talk to myself but I absolutely do not talk to myself while I’m cutting grass. I use a push mower and, frankly, talking to myself and pushing the mower would send me to the emergency room. What I do while cutting grass is mull over past events until my brain feels like it is going to explode. Then I come inside and have a nice cool drink and everything gets better.

Several weeks ago I went out to lunch with a group of people that I don’t know very well. We went to Quiznos and I had never been to one before. I was disappointed that there wasn’t one of those spongemonkeys singing about the pepper bar, but I eventually got over it. Anyway, one of the people behind the counter was not very proficient in English. I could understand her because I wised up that English was not her native tongue and perhaps I should focus on what she was saying instead of yammering on to the person standing next to me. You know where this is going, don’t you? One of the people I was with didn’t just say, “excuse me, could you repeat that?” She looked right at the counter person and then looked at the person next to her and said, “what did she say” in a very condescending way.

I’m old school and I think the way you treat Jane Q. Random person says a lot about you as a person. I don’t really know this person I had lunch with but that impression will stick with me the next time I see her.

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