I’m sure of it.
Two days ago, I was on the edge of the city where the #1 Highway exits to the East. A young guy was there, backpack on, with a sign that read, “Traveling. Broke and Hungry.” My eye didn’t even register the rest of the words into my head–I’ve seen this sign before. Mentally, I saw myself with a sheet of cardboard and a Sharpie. My sign read, “Staying home with my job. Feeling fine. Make any sense?”
Like I said–jerk.
Then yesterday, our phone rang around 6 PM. Prime time for the telemarketers, it seems. The area code didn’t look as threatening as usual. I picked up. Brief silent moment. Unfamiliar voice asking to speak to someone with my father’s name. “Yeah, just a minute,” I said, as I took the phone from my ear and hung it up.
And not feeling as badly about it as I probably should.