corners.

I am sitting at a table, pretending I am in the corner. Most people that dine with me, or have coffee with me (or go anywhere publicly with me) know that I covet the corner seat of the corner table in the far corner of the corner. Right now, my coveted corner seat is taken by some man in an herblife shirt who keeps getting up and going outside to talk on the TELEPHONE. He is so completely unaware of the table luxury he has that he isn't even staying on his ass long enough to appreciate it. So what did I do? I sat in the seat right in front of him. Some would say that we are awkwardly close. All he can see is the back of my head. But I am pretending I am in the corner, because, with the exception of those trips he keeps taking back and forth to phone and smoke, I can't see him at all. My hope is that I will make him so uncomfortable that he will have no choice but to move tables. I don't think it's working. 

I was driving the other day down a street I frequent near my little backyard home. There was a man standing at the edge of the sidewalk, holding the leash of his dog, waiting get to the path that resumes on the other side of the street. Since I can't see well, and have lost my glasses once again, I didn't realize until I got a little closer that the man holding the lease couldn't see, and that it was the dog that was leading him. I glanced up the street. There were cars coming toward me. School had just been let out, so the traffic was a bit heavier that usual. He waited. I glanced in my rearview mirror. There were cars approaching behind me. He waited. He was trusting his dog, and listening himself for the sound of vehicles. He waited. More cars approached, but there was a possible break. I continued to watch him even after I passed, through my rearview mirror. It seems dramatic and even a little cheesy, but I think that ultimately, this man's life rested in the being that was in the other side of red leash being gripped by his hand. I was taken aback at the thought. 

Roller skating has been reintroduced to my life. I have started spending Wednesday evenings with quads on my feet, circling a rink, feebly trying to get around the corners without falling on my already running-strained knees. I arrived agitated and annoyed last week, due to a traffic hold up that that made me late and cut into my precious few skating hours. I hurriedly laced up my skates, and anxiously made my way to the floor. I think I mentioned above that my skating is feeble. It's amateur. It's inexperienced. Skating is one of those things you need to keep doing to get good at. I haven't been doing it all these years, so I am rusty. No. I am not rusty. I am just bad. My long spider legs being supported by four wheels that are constantly moving, coupled with my shaky arms attempting balance is basically a doomed scenario. Two seconds after I get on the rink, before I even round the second corner, some expert skating jerk face zooms behind me to the right and cuts in front of me to the left. I am not a small person. I haven't been for, like, twenty years. And since I am tall, I fall from much further up. This is what I tell myself. Because of above mentioned expert skating jerk face, I spend the next ten or so seconds trying to pick myself up off of the wood floor. Now I am just mad. He asks if I am okay and tries to help me up. I help myself up and huff, "I am fine, ass hole. Thanks for f&*king cutting me off." I kind of mumbled the part after the word fine, so I don't think he heard me. 

I was angry. Expert skating jerk face took my control from me. Corner seat guy kept me from the spot that offered me the most control. The man that moved me the most from the previous week, the man whose name I didn't even know, didn't have a choice but to let go of that thing I grip the tightest with my hand. 

Corner seat guy got up and left, so I am typing my last paragraph from his old spot. It's nice here, in the corner.