Christ on a cracker today was long.
An old man was farting around (literally) while I was shelving books. I found myself praying, "Please, please don't fart on my head while I'm bending down to put these books on the bottom shelf." Then a middle-aged white woman asked if I had seen her son, a blond-brownish wavy haired "cute" 20-ish boy. I said, I couldn't say for sure because...I'm not psychic and don't know who her son is. She said, very snappily, "Oh, so you don't remember people." I should have sassed back, "NO. You just gave me the most vague description ever. Also, your perspective on what's 'cute' may not be the same as mine seeing as you've worn that floppy straw hat and magnifying glasses out in public." If only I was more of a sass-pot.
Now I shall feast on toast and watch my programs. Take that, world.
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