March Friday morning coffee shop musings. The usual cast of characters are here.

This one guy comes in maybe once a week with his 3-year-old, incredibly adorable, thickly be-speckled son. The toddler marches with purpose toward the counter while Dad ushers from behind lest he get distracted by many of us who just want to say hi to this little guy. For the better part of a year now, because I can’t help myself, I have listened intently as this awesome dad talks to his child. He is kind, instructive, and all about the boy. Not on his phone, not chatting with others, just talking to his son. Makes me smile every time.

The retired lawyer lady is here, too, holding court as she does almost every day with passers-by who stop to chat. She annoys the hell out of me for a couple of reasons. Every day, for the past five years, she pulls the only two wing-back chairs in the place together and plops her feet up on them after she has dragged them into the aisle closer to the fire. Every. Damn. Day. Then, she starts on her list of calls. Maybe the pharmacy today. Perhaps her accountant the day before that.

I forgot to mention – she is a loud talker. I have the unwelcome knowledge of what medication she takes. I know what she ate last night. Hell, I know that she is stopping by the grocery store for strawberries later today. I know she’s loudly complaining to her phone buddy that she is too busy to meet up for lunch next week. I know more about her day than I do my husband’s at this point. I don’t want to know, but I do, because she is annoying as hell.

Then, there is the surly cashier who has never warmed up to me. I don’t know why, because I am a freaking nice person. And she’s not having a bad day because she is chatty Cathy with the person behind me and, if I’m being honest, the person in front of me. I have tried smiling. I have tried asking about her day.

I’m trying hard to employ the advice in a book I’m reading called The Life Changing Magic of Not Giving a F*ck, which this cashier has most certainly read.

Unfortunately, I’m failing sorely with Loud Talking Lawyer Lady and Surly Sally here. Fact is, I AM giving a flying f*ck and it’s killing my happy Friday buzz because I can’t concentrate. Mostly because I’m nosy, but still.

The eight elderly men have just come in and gathered at the community table right next to me and I take note that these eight gentlemen, talking over each other and carrying on multiple conversations simultaneously, are making less noise than the loud talker. They appear to have gathered just for the hell of it. I love them. Plus, they called me young lady, so they had me at that.

I contemplate whacking loud talker with my cane on my way out, but remember at 10 weeks post op, I forget my cane in the car more than I remember it. Gotta take the good with the bad. Not walking with a cane and avoiding assault charges? Priceless.