I don't usually take lunch, because I'm addicted to the Internet and would rather read Salon on my lunch break than go out anywhere and spend money I don't have on food I don't need, but today I decided to take a little break and do some errands at midday. It's lovely out -- that's one reason. Another is that I have so much cool stuff going on right now that I'm all wound up, and I decided it would look more professional if I left for a bit and ran around outside than if I stayed and ricocheted around the office like some sort of pinball. (Short version: I got a new job at my same company, doing more interesting things with some of my favorite people. Seriously, my new boss is so cool that I hope she never gets a job in sewage treatment. I would hate to have to follow her there.)
I went to the Heights Pharmacy, to pick up my various fruity alternative remedies. When I got there, the place was mobbed, which is unusual. The hippie drugstore is usually pretty bare. Anyway, I guess that's the problem, because as soon I walked in, I overheard someone saying that the place is closing next week. Which sucks.
One of my favorite things about the Heights Pharmacy is the crazy Russian lady who runs the counter. She has huge bushy dyed blonde hair and thick black eyebrows like two dashes over her eyes, and she just looks sort of generally emphatic. The first time I went in there, she handed my stuff over the counter and said, in her thick Russian accent, "What a pretty little girl!" I am a sucker for flattery, especially when it's delivered in an accent.
Anyway, the Russian lady saw me as soon as I came in, and raised her finger. "Wait right there!" She said. "Don't move! I need to talk to you."
So I waited in back while she served the customers, wondering all the while what she might have to say to me. I don't really go in there enough for her to remember me, and we've never had any meaningful conversations, so I couldn't imagine what she wanted. Maybe she had some medical advice for me. Maybe she could read my aura. Maybe my aura was particularly shiny and promising-looking, and she wanted to let me know that I would be famous soon, and that I should watch out for temptation, and continue to be good to the little people, and so on.
After a few moments, she came over, and leaned down to look into my face.
"Yes?" I asked her, expectantly.
"I am so sorry," she said. "I thought you were someone else."
I'm sure she still thinks I'm pretty though.
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