Today I went for a run and, after depositing a discarded 40-oz with what I hope was just leftover beer in it into the Dumpster, I went in to Rite-Aid to wash my hands. The cow in the ladies room was taking forever so first I took my blood pressure in the little machine they have, and then I just looked around. A young clerk, about 5’11” and 95 pounds, walked past eating from a bag of beef jerky. A minute passes, I’m still waiting to wash my hands (there was a brown bag around the beer bottle, otherwise I’m not sure I’d have picked it up in the first place), when the same clerk walks back the other way, carrying two six-foot-long tubes of fluorescent lighting and yet persisting in eating beef jerky, so he was holding the bag in his right hand and cradling the light tubes in the crook of his right elbow, and then trying to feed himself with his left hand without the whole thing going to hell, and the tubes are starting to slip around and up and down and right as he gets that under control he sees me, hunches over, and strides from the frame.
I did not laugh aloud until I left the building.
(And, topper on the cake, I got to see my favorite wizened old-lady cashier, too! Hey Olema, you lookin’ good.)