Okay, not all of last
week’s whackjobness was entirely negative.
Wednesday I was going to
go to Walgreen’s to pick up a prescription, but I couldn’t because at least two
blocks of 12th Street were taped off on account of a “suspicious
package” at Metro Center. This is of
course negative, and the first time I’ve encountered it in this country, so it
was kind of interesting.
But I did not make it to
Walgreen's, so I went down on Thursday, and it was a nice day, so I walked on
the sunny side of the street. That side has a liquor store, so I stopped in to
see if they carried Writer’s
Tears Irish whiskey. It’s a bit of a hole-in-the-wall, so I wasn’t
expecting much. And indeed, their entire inventory of Irish appears to be about
three shelves of Jameson and Bushmill’s.
The guy behind the
counter looked it up, showing me the result (with pricing in Euros) and didn’t
offer to order it for me.
I thanked him and was
getting ready to walk out when he put a bottle of chardonnay in a bag and said,
“Here, free.”
Well, that certainly
does not happen every day, so I thanked him and trotted off to Walgreen’s,
trying not to look like I’m the sort of person who washes down prescription
meds with wine-in-a-bag.
Really—just a very odd
week.
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