So, after the funeral, I decide to work from home since most banks are closed (and my clients are banks).  I return the rental car and make the mistake of hearkening back — with no one else in room — to the earlier conversation about menopause that I had with the same rental car sales assistant.   She was not pleased.  She had mentioned earlier that she has mood swings.  I notice as I stand over the counter that she still hadn’t taken her vitamins.  I decided not to mention that the name of the GPS NeverLost is a misnomer.  And, I assume I am going to get a schmuck tax on top of the usual rental car costs.  I am fine with all of it because, well, it is what it is.

I go to grab lunch and there is a woman sitting opposite me at the communal table in Le Pain Quotidienne.  She looks at me as if she recognizes me.  We hold a gaze for an extra second. I know that I don’t know her so I assume that she asked me a question and is waiting for a response.  So, I say, “excuse me?” as if she said something.  She didn’t.  I apologize.  I go back to my various devices of connectivity.

She types furiously on her laptop.  I think she is a blogger.  I wanted to say, “Hi, I’m 40andoverblog.  Who are you?” But that would have sounded like the ookiest come-on line and that was not my intention.

I surreptitiously glance over at her from time to time, trying to see what she is typing.  She catches me a few times.  I have to leave now lest she think I have any interest other than uncovering a blogger and responds with interest or revulsion, neither of which I could handle.

I inhale my food and pay my bill.

I imagine that she is thinking, “wow, she reminds me of my mother”.  I catch a cab and take to my bed.