This morning on the way to the trolley, I was waiting to cross the street. An older woman sidled up next to me, and I knew, I just knew, that she was going to talk.
She had “Generation Small Talk” written all over her.
“One day, we’re not wearing coats; the next day, we are!” she mused.
I yep’d in agreement.
“Thanksgiving was so warm!”
“It was nice,” I agreed again, my fingers nervously dancing with pennies and lint inside my coat pockets.
“I wouldn’t mind if it was like this all the time,” she continued, and I nodded. “Well, maybe a little warmer.”
“Yep.” WHERE IS THAT PIANO FROM THE SKY WHEN I NEED IT.
“There’s not much traffic this morning,” she pointed out after a whopping three seconds of blessed silence.
“I bet some of the schools are closed today because of huntin’,” she answered her own unspoken question.
“Yep,” I mumbled, and then panicked because did Chooch not have school today?! (He did, don’t worry!)
Then the walk sign came on and I more or less sprinted to the other side while calling out, “Have a nice day!” over my shoulder. Hey, I said I don’t like small talk, not MANNERS.
I really need to start memorizing passages from Anton LaVey’s Satanic Bible so I can have something other than “Yeps” and “I know, right”s to blurt out in lethargic slurs.