Something More

I have finally returned home from my week at the lakeside cabin up north, and as a consequence I have the wherewithal to write about things that are not directly related to the activities of the last day or so. That's not to say that I'm through with writing about the vacation, as there are a number of other ideas from it that have yet to be exploited. Today though, I have something else remarkable to consider, although others may not agree.

As long as I have been doing improv, little routines have developed around the time and place that I have gone to class. It used to be that we commonly got frozen yogurt after class. This was a weekly thing that seldom was modified or canceled. More recently I have had my own little thing. Because I can't rely on the bus to get me there on time, I set it so I'll arrive early or on time instead of on time or late. When I'm early, I get a hot dog or two at the 7-11 next door.

It's always the same guy running the place, and I think he may remember me from one time to the next, although I'm not sure of it. He's basically civil if not very expressive or communicative. The staff of such places can be worse, so I try to be grateful for what I do get out of the interactions. Anyway, I've gone in there most weeks for the last few months, and there has not be a real progression in our relationship until yesterday, when he gave me an extra frank in one of my hot dogs.

What I guess happened was that one of them was a little shorter than it should have been, and he decided that he couldn't sell it on its own. He might have thrown it out, but something made him give it to me. He didn't ask me if I wanted it or really say much about the situation. He seemed to chuckle at the sight of the runt hot dog, and before I knew it, it was in one of my buns on top of a properly-sized one. I guess I'm just glad for the extra food. Why get hung up on whether he and I are friends?