Sunday 6/16/24
I knew a woman who had a procedure done so she'd never have any pubic hair again. She wouldn't have to remove it or have it removed, it just wouldn't grow. I wish I could do this with my face, because shaving slows me down. Part of that is because the electric razor I have is old and doesn't work well and needs to be replaced and I haven't replaced it, so it's a half hour process. I do other things while doing this, but it still takes that time all the same.
Today is Bunker Hill Day (because this is the weekend--the battle was fought on June 17, 1775). I'm going over to Charlestown soon to run stairs at the Connecticut gate. When the Monument was dedicated on June 17, 1843, in commemoration of the famed Revolutionary War battle, there were 100,000 people up on that hill, which is crazy. If you've been there you're perhaps now thinking, "What? Really?" But I have it on good authority.
On Friday I set out for Trader Joe's in the Back Back. The sky above me in the Common was clear, but across the street, in the Public Garden, there were these banks of black, death-like clouds overhead. Very ominous. By the time I was in the Public Garden, the wind was really starting to whip, and you knew trouble was about to start. The skies opened, and I ended up in one of the most intense rainstorms of my life. I kept going through it. No shelter in an doorway for me. I'm not that kind of guy. (Would you expect me to be?) But it was grimly comical how hard it was raining.
As I was leaving Trader Joe's, I evaluated the weather from inside the doors, because I had these two bags--two double bags--and I wanted to make sure I made it back with them okay. It seemed all right. Raining some, but drastically tapered off. People were outside again. I had walked to Trader Joe's but I figured I'd walk to Copley and get the train there. It's maybe a half mile from Trader Joe's to the Copley T station--less than that, actually. I get inside the T station and I'm at the top of the stairs and one of the bags comes completely apart, foodstuffs going everywhere. This is a problem, I thought. What are you going to do? You might be screwed.
Immediately this guy comes out of nowhere and hands me a cloth bag from a produce market, saying, "Here, I have more of these at at home." What a kind thing to do. I was grateful and it did me good--beyond the practical good that it did me, so I didn't have to leave any of the items behind--to see someone do something so nice. I'm so unaccustomed to people being kind or nice to me in my own life, so paradoxically there's that string, where I found myself thinking, "See? Someone can be nice to you," with this parenthetical addendum, "So long as they're a stranger and don't know you." He was very fast, no hesitation. Came to the rescue.
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