Not for the faint of art. |
Short entry today. I had a dental checkup this morning, which took up way too much of the morning, and I just don't feel like doing a longer entry. I will say this, though: Afterwards, afflicted with a powerful thirst, I stopped at the nearby 7-11 to get some ice-cold Crack Zero for the purposes of slaking said thirst while at the same time getting the cloying taste of tooth polish out of my mouth. The convenience store was, inconveniently, infested with an outbreak of teen. Kids running around, pushing each other, being loud, discussing their latest trivial but earth-shattering teen drama, flirting, and generally both ignoring and getting in the way of oldies like me who just wanted to do some commerce. I started to prepare a "kids these days" rant in my head, but then, just as my fist closed over the smooth plastic of an ice-cold Crack Zero, the realization hit me just like some kid had hit the door as I held it open: Given the way my friends and I acted in 7-11s when we were that age, I was experiencing no more and no less than long-delayed karmic retribution. Okay, Universe. Okay. You win this time. |