you know it
(from my personal journal, Sunday evening)
I have been listening to Nick Cave all weekend. I should know better. Now I have a music hangover.
The best thing I heard/experienced all week happened in Wal-Mart’s parking lot a couple of hours ago. I was there to buy stuff (portobellos, poblanos, romano and asiago, tomatoes) for omelettes–yay, breakfasts for dinners! There is this guy that works there; he is a cart rounder, is moderately retarded and love-love-LOVES his job. He always looks so very happy to be there and gathering those carts! I catch myself looking around to see if he’s out bobbing around the parking lot whenever I (am broken by perceived need and forced to) shop at the grody retail monolith.
(Ayuh, I rail on and on about this place, but there are so many wonderful characters walking ’round here; I really NEED to pin them down to some pages for publishing)
Today I didn’t have to look so hard, because the Happy Cart Rounder was near the door and talking to an older gentleman. The older man looked equal parts bewildered and transfixed by what was transpiring. As I passed by them, I caught just one sentence of what the cart rounder was saying.
“Well, you know, you’ve got to get in where you fit in.”