I wish I had my headphones. I don’t like the songs playing here at Starbucks. That’s right folks, I’ve taken this show on the road. I have some time to kill between my super awesome temporary non-job and my next thing, so I’m at Starbucks. I usually like their music. Today’s selections are from the 50-70’s and I’m just not feeling it. It’s too much work to find another place with wi-fi and move my stuff. I’ve also made friends with the persistent fly that keeps bothering my stuff. At least he’s not drinking my coffee. Then I would have to kill him. By the way, if you’re a fan of the tiramasu cake pop, you should get them while you can. They are not going to have them anymore. I just ate the last one for today…maybe forever. We’ll never know. Well, we could find out tomorrow, I suppose. There’s a man here writing in a book. A regular book. A novel actually. He should be hanged for his crimes. He also moves his head back and forth like he’s at a tennis match when he reads. I’m definitely going to have to move to another table where I cannot see him. The guy who made my coffee was really slow, but it’s the best coffee I’ve had for a long time, so I forgive him. The fly just made a move for my coffee. I’m going to call him Frank. Why do they put a cake pop on a plate? I nearly dropped it several times because it was rolling around so much. I finally pushed it down a little so it was flat on one side. But then it was flat on one side. ugh. I want a green apron, but I don’t want to work here. hmmm. Frank is about to die. Three attempts at my coffee. My table is too small. Does your hair actually turn gray, or does it only grow in that way? I found a really long gray hair today and when I was done crying about it I plucked it out. I’m sure I would have noticed it by now. Maybe it just TURNED gray. I’m sure that’s it. I have no plans on dying my hair, but what if I wake up one day and they’ve all turned against me? The guy next to me is really friendly. He asked me what I am writing (probably thinking it’s some kind of genius novel, and he’s going to have met me “back when”) and when I told him it was nonsense for my blog, he looked right at me and then said, “I wish I could just right nonsense. I always think everything I write has to have a purpose. What a gift you have!” I’m going to call the ambulance…I’m sure there’s something very wrong with this man to think I’m doing anything important. I just told him what I wrote about him, and he said, “Now I’m famous”. His name is Joe. Now Joe is famous! (to the 4 people who read this) Frank is now dead. I warned him. It is MY coffee. I’m now babysitting a subway sandwich for someone who went into the bathroom. I must not look very hungry. Book Writer just smiled at me. I didn’t move to a new table. Jessup says I should do a brain dump before bed each night. He says it might help me sleep to get all the “stuff” out and then go lay down. (Don’t tell him I said/wrote this, but I think he might be a genius) I’ve only been getting about three hours of sleep a night and it’s not been great sleep at that. Book Writer is wearing socks (argyle-with a hole in the toe) and sandals. Why do people make it so hard to try not to judge them? Well, this is longer than I though it would be. I didn’t realize I would think so much at Starbucks. I don’t actually cry over gray hairs. It’s a part of life, and I don’t care about them being gray. I do like the brown though…I will miss it. Joe wanted my number. I gave him Barry’s business card. Goodbye Joe. R.I.P. Frank. That is all.