Little grey-haired lady, five foot nothing, in front of me at the checkout. Writes a check while the clerk is ringing up the goods.
"Thirty-nine eighty-nine." The woman completes the check, and as she hands it to the clerk she observes that "It is going to be seventy-five today!"
"Who's seventy-five?" LGL looks puzzled. I interject.
"The temperature. The temperature is going to be seventy-five today." Then I go on, "Some of us wish we were seventy-five again."
LGL turns to look at me, smiles, and nods her head.
4 comments:
Fortunately, their was an interpreter present.
Chuck, the lady and I belong to the same societal set; the clerk, to a much younger demographic. Different languages?
I experience this often...in my own home. Nobody can hear anyone here. Including the cats.
Lin, too many people, it seems, have honed their talking skills to a much keener edge than they have their listening skills. And they like it like that.
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