The sticker of doubt

I met my sister to discuss wedding decorations.  That was nice.


It’s a beautiful day.  People are smiling.  There are bare arms everywhere.  Everyone’s lookin’ good.


Took the 135 downtown.  Went to that bastion of sewing and crafting supplies, Dressew.  They’re fantastic.  I got a different ribbon for my corset.  Then, outside, as I was waiting for the bus in the glorious sunshine, I looked up and saw a sticker.

“Humanity is Fucked” it said.

“Naw brah,” I thought, “we’ll get through it.”  I smiled to myself, optimistic in the gorgeous spring sun.

The bus came.  The driver stopped the person behind me.

“No no, stay out there, I don’t want smoke on my bus,” he said, gesturing to the smoke wafting around the person.

“It’s not smoke, it’s speed,” she answered, getting on the bus.


My eyes were drawn to the sticker as the bus pulled away…


“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I told myself, trying to shrug that sinking feeling you get when you realize that Humanity is Fucked.

I went shoe shopping.  Always an ordeal for me.  I usually wear men’s hiking boots, size 11.  I’ve never really had dress shoes I’ve liked.  But, I’m getting married, and not in hiking boots.

I found some!

Apparently, when I’m walking around the store trying to determine if a pair of shoes is right for me, I look like an employee.  I even helped the guy to the right section for his size.  Then I changed out of my new shoes, smiling, as he walked by me, chagrinned.


I whistled as I got off the skytrain.  I bought groceries, I bought three pina-colada bars to have for desert while Aaron, Matthew, and I brew for the evening.  Apple Cizer, you’re going to be delicious.


Happy Spring.

Thanks for reading.

Heidi out.

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