Cough, hack!
To the lady who used lemon-scented body spray in the locker room: everyone enjoys inhaling lysol after a workout, thanks so much....

Nice Tomatoes
The owner of the little corner produce store I go to seems to have attended a "get in touch with your inner salesman" seminar. The usual background radio station elevator music was replaced by Vivaldi. This wasn't unpleasant, just mildly odd and unusually loud. When I got to the cash, the owner was ringing up my purchases and pointing out the good prices and excellent quality, size, etc. of his produce. Normally, he just smiles and is genial, but doesn't talk very much. Why is he suddenly so proud of his avocados? When I got out of the store, I looked around the block for another store opening up, but didn't see anything.

Is it just me, or is leaving work in the dark a bit depressing?