I tend to think people suck. I don't really like people. I stay home most of the time, because people are just too stupid to be around. I do not care what people think about me, nor do i care what people think i think about them. All this aside, I am a civil person. I hold doors open for people, I give people a quick smile as I walk by to display my friendliness.

The other morning at work, I was about to snag some free coffee and this lady walks up beside me and and starts processing her own beverage. I do not know the woman, and she does not know me. I see her all the time around the office, but I have no idea who she is. She is a larger African American woman, not that it matters, nor is it pertinent to the anecdote, I am simply trying to paint a picture in your head.

This was early in the morning... approximately 7:30am. I was not up to speed yet. I was hazy. She is about 8 inches away from me, putting something into a cup, and I hear her make a noise, but I am not sure what it was. Uh oh. Did she just say something to me? Did she say hello? Was she talking to herself? Was she just clearing her throat?

About a hundred things went through my mind. A few of which were... If she said hello to be friendly, and I did not acknowledge her at all, then I might be perceived as an asshole, or some sort of elitist. If she was mumbling to herself and I replied, then that could be considered rude. What if she really did not make a noise at all, and i just imagined it?

It was at that point that I remembered that I just don't care, so I just ignored her completely and carried on with my process.

This seemed like a lot more interesting idea in my head before I started. I appear to have lost some of my blogging mojo. I am not sure why. Damn it. I assume it is because I am in the pre-fall funk where nothing much happens as summer winds down. At least I hope that is the case, and that the cycle gets mixed up a little bit after I go on vacation in 10 days.

I think this is the longest I have gone without posting since I started. I find myself thinking back about something, and coming here to look it up for a time frame reference. I have to get back on the horse.
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Every day when Carl put on his socks, they ripped, which upset him greatly, because it was not until after the socks were destroyed each day that he remembered that his feet were razor blades. Poor Carl.