A few minutes ago I dropped off my dry cleaning. As I leaned on the counter to write my name & phone number on the receipt, the old lady who works there began rubbing the back of my hand. Not in a flirty way (and thank god) but like she was curious. When I gave her a “what the f**k, lady?” look she said, “Skin…circles…stain.” Actually, she said more than that, but her English is pretty broken and that’s all I really heard. At first I thought she was talking about stains on the shirts I was dropping off, but when she repeated her words I figured out that she was talking about the freckles on the back of my hand. At least, that’s the conclusion I leapt to. Anyway, I just gave her a little confused smile and wandered off.

A few minutes earlier some guy riding his bike down the sidewalk on Bloor Street kind of ran into me. Not hard, mind you, but when I came around the corner under some boarding he couldn’t stop in time, and he couldn’t swerve, so I ended up just grabbing his bike and stopping it as he ran into my leg. He apologized and asked if I was ok…which surprised me. I’d already just started walking away; it just seemed like any other pedestrian collision. I guess maybe he was nervous ’cause he was riding his bike on a sidewalk and knew he was in the wrong, or maybe he thought I looked pissed (which I’m told I do when I’m lost in thought), but I didn’t really even notice.

.:.

Nellie’s getting ready to go camping for the weekend. Not that I don’t enjoy her company, but I looooooove having the place to myself sometimes. To get a running start into the weekend I’ve taken today off. I should be able to get lots of work done too, so long as a second visit from The Scotsman and his fiancé (not wife; thanks TimmyD) doesn’t put me out of commission for too much of Sunday.

[tags]freckles, bike riding on sidewalks, alone time[/tags]