I've been delivering meals for a few months now, mostly to overtly end-of-life appellationed non-Edens like "Golden Sunset Mobile Home Park", "Trail's End Mobile Home Park" (punctuation is mine), "Happy Trails Deluxe Mobile Home Park" (liars) and so forth. The 2 1/2 hour route is a real eye opener on old age, solitude and infirmities, making me glad I've gone to such lengths to conscientiously take care of myself (cough, snort).
But it's also the first "job" I've had that people look forward to my showing up, and almost certainly the only job where I can yet be referred to as "that nice young man."
One day a couple of weeks ago, as I was mid-route, pulling Mr C's packages (low sodium, diabetic, no milk), a tall, leggy, astonishingly proportioned young woman sauntered past my truck as I was checking my inventory while loading up my arms. Her sheer white dress appeared to have been applied to her with a paint gun, and she smiled a charming smile and cordially greeted me. I responded "You have a nice day, too!" and trundled across the alleyway trying not to drop anything or drip water onto the signature sheet.
After climbing back into the 'Burb and heading 'round the corner toward my next delivery, I realized she had actually asked if I wanted to "have a date" which, now that I think of it was her way of suggesting I could Have A Nice Day, I guess. Sigh . . . .
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2 comments:
Gross.
AND a happy ending if you wanted.
BRO
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