Atchoo

I went outside today. I didn’t take my wheelchair, because people like to push it. Not, y’know…they don’t try to kidnap me or stuff me into cupboards. It’s just, if I get on the lift, and it’s already full, and I’m in the way when we reach the ground floor, nobody waits for me. They move me out of the road. I hate that.

So, anyway, I walked down. There was nowhere to sit, so I sat on the ground. (I’m inconsiderate that way. I sit on the pavement and make people step over my legs.) I thought about crossing the street, so I could sit on the grass outside the billiard hall, but there were too many cars.

I stayed outside for ten minutes and came back in. I wasn’t accomplishing anything, and there was a smell abroad, like…old shoes and stale exhaust, hot tarmac, vegetation. A busy-street smell. It was making me sneeze. People were staring. I’m a very loud sneezer, foghorn-loud. One time, at my old place, my neighbour stuck a note to my door—YOU KNOW YOU DON’T HAVE TO SCREAM “ATCHOO!” EVERY TIME YOU SNEEZE, RIGHT?

But I do, Internet. I really do.

While I was outside, I saw a woman wearing a dress I wanted. It was long and cream-coloured, made from something heavy. Wool, maybe, some soft fabric. It had long sleeves and a high collar and a skirt that hung to her ankles. It flowed when she walked, waterfall-style. She had that on, and a rust-coloured coat, also ankle-length, and made from, oh…crêpe? Something thin and fluttery. It was elegant, the whole effect.

She had a gold hairpin in too, a big gleaming figured thing at the nape of her neck, and a black ponytail hanging to her hips. I wanted to stop her, like “where did you get all that?” But she’d have thought I was homeless, sitting out the way I was. I didn’t want to frighten her.

I saw a man with red shoes on, and I wanted those too, but he was on the other side of the street.

An older gent said “good morning,” and I said it back. He asked if I’d tried the bubble tea place across the street. I said I had, and it’s good, and he should go there. He did.

Here’s a thing about that bubble tea place: I ordered from there the other day, and they’ve just started selling reusable straws. Now, I’m very anti-garbage. Any garbage I get, I have to keep till my housekeeper comes, and that’s just once a fortnight. So I ordered two bubble teas and a reusable straw, and what did they bring me? Two teas, one steel straw, and two plastic ones. Of course.

I heard they’re banning disposable straws in Vancouver. I hope that won’t spell the end of bubble tea. It’s very refreshing, these hot summer days. And I like the wee mango stars, and the clear aiyu jelly.

Anyway, nothing interesting happened today except that I went out (which, I’d assume, is interesting only to me).

In conclusion, here, an earmouse.