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.

:0

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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