It is hotter than a mouth full of Haitian peppers. And it is raining. The weather in Swelter-delphia does not make sense to a mild-climate soul like myself. Black clouds are choking the tip-tops of the skyscrapers out my window and I'm crossing my fingers that we won't lose power for another three days. Seriously. We lost power for the entire weekend.
Last night I went to a going-away party for two fabbity fab people here in Philly and I stayed out late dancing and I cannot figure out why I wasn't entirely flattered by the guy who was hitting on me and has now called me twice. I must be getting old and crotchety. Or the weather is cramping my style. Of course there could be a million other reasons.
But I digress.
This morning I was running errands for church and I passed two different guys selling bottles of water on the side of the road. This seems to be a common summer business venture. Shirtless, often toothless fellows, drag big coolers to busy cross streets and sell bottles for a dollar. The way they fearlessly maneuver through traffic reminds me of the women at truck stops in Zambia who hold up baskets of produce for passers-buy to pluck up for a few hundred kwacha. It's a tough job and I cannot imagine they make much profit. I drove passed one ambitious salesman, brown and leathery, and I had the sudden urge to pull over and buy the whole darn cooler full of water. Across the street the parking lot of a strip club was jam-packed with cars at 11 in the morning and it gave me pause. The things we do for money are always...fraught. Yes, that's the word. Fraught.
I got a package in the mail today that made me cry. Some people are just so darn thoughtful! Thank you, Cheri!
3 years ago