This morning, I burned the oatmeal. By the time I noticed it had burnt (the scorched smell seeping into my sleep-fogged brain while I dreamily ironed a shirt), it was too late to salvage any of it, and too late to start cooking more. I went to work without breakfast.<\/p>\n
Fortunately, I had to run an errand at about 9:30. On the way back to the office, I stopped in at the new bagel place, which is in the same location as the old bagel place, but with new decor and a new owner.<\/p>\n
“Hi,” said the young woman behind the counter, putting down a sandwich and smiling. “What can I get you?”<\/p>\n
“Are those all the bagels you have left?” I said, pointing to the glass case under the counter.<\/p>\n
“No, no,” she said, reaching down, and talking quickly. “I just haven’t had time to put anything out. It doesn’t look it now, but it was crazy in here just a few minutes ago. I just now was getting to my breakfast, and I’ve been here since five a.m. I’ve got spinach back here, and whole wheat and cinnamon raisin and… I guess that’s it, but I might have more out back.”<\/p>\n
“Could I please have two whole wheat bagels with cream cheese?” I said.<\/p>\n
Just then, a man walked up. He was about fifty-five, pencil-thin moustache, bit of a paunch. He looked like the tradesmen I used to see when I worked at the lumberyard.<\/p>\n
“Hi Charlie,” said the woman behind the counter. “The usual?”<\/p>\n
“Yeah,” he said, putting a travel mug down on the counter.<\/p>\n
“You still sick?” she said.<\/p>\n
“Yeah,” he said. “I feel tired.”<\/p>\n
“You got that bug that’s going around?” I said.<\/p>\n
“That’s right,” he said. “Don’t get too close to me, I’m contagious!” He had a twinkle in his blue eyes.<\/p>\n
“No, I already had it,” I said.<\/p>\n
“I’ve gotten sick a lot this winter,” said Charlie. “Most winters, nothing. This winter, I’ve been sick three times,” holding up three fingers.<\/p>\n
“Me too,” I said.<\/p>\n
“Me too,” said the woman behind the counter, fixing Charlie’s coffee and slicing my bagels and spreading cream cheese and talking, all at a fast pace. “I’ve been sick a lot. I think it’s because it’s been so warm this winter, so you get sick more often. Last week, I had this feeling in my head, my head was pounding, right here behind the eyes. Someone said it’s allergies, but I knew it wasn’t allergies. But I couldn’t take time off to be sick, I just opened this business. So I had to come into work anyway.” <\/p>\n
She gave Charlie his coffee, and he slowly stirred it. “Thanks,” he said.<\/p>\n
“Plus, I’ve been eating like crazy, nervous eating, you know?” said the woman. “Starting this business has been really stressful, I eat all the time. I get nervous, I grab something to eat. I’ve put on twenty pounds since I opened up.”<\/p>\n
“You gotta watch what you eat,” said Charlie. “Me, now I eat only organic vegetables, and I feel healthier. It helps you keep up your resistance. I get the organic milk, too.” (The thought flashed through my head: Boy, he’s not your stereotypical buyer of organic food.) <\/p>\n
“Milk, bleah,” said the woman while she wrapped my bagels. “I don’t like milk. I just don’t drink it any more.”<\/p>\n
“We eat organic, too,” I said to Charlie. “I don’t like milk either,” I said to the woman.<\/p>\n
“Well, I might put some skim milk on my cereal in the morning,” said the woman, equivocating a little. “That’s a dollar ninety-four. Maybe skim milk on my cereal, but I don’t drink milk. I haven’t had a glass of milk to drink in years.”<\/p>\n
I gave her two dollars, and put a dollar in the tip jar. Charlie told us how good organic milk tastes, nice and foamy like it just came out of the cow. I exchanged a glance with the woman behind the counter — he was a nice guy, but neither one of us was going to drink milk, organic or not.<\/p>\n
Burning my oatmeal cost me three dollars and ninety-four cents, money I would have preferred not to spend. I guess the conversation was worth it, though.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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