I had to go grocery shopping Monday night. I fucking hate to do that because there are always a lot of people there, and almost all of them are inconsiderate and lost in their own worlds without a single fuck for anyone else around them. I prefer shopping Sunday mornings when most people in town are at church. But I had no choice because there was no food in the house, and I was not very motivated to go out on Sunday due to a snowstorm that left my backyard and car buried.
When I sat down in my car after I was done I realized something was off, and I saw that I'd popped a button on my beloved trench coat. One that often comes off because of the way I sit. But the difference between this time and all the others was I couldn't find the button. Fuck! What if I'd lost it in the store? Well, if that's the case, then it's gone for good. Once I leave a store I don't go back in for anything.
It bummed me out because that button was kind of special to me. Back when I was unemployed for more than a year I decided to teach myself how to do things that I ordinarily depend on others to do for me. One of those things was how to sew a button. It took me a lot longer to learn than it should have, but I got it, and I was very proud of myself. It was a symbol of my success at trying to do something I had never done before.
So yeah. A real bummer.
I resigned myself to having to find another button because I didn't want to cut a spare button off my coat. It felt too destructive. I hoped that maybe I'd lost the button at work. I doubted it because I remembered buttoning it up before leaving, but it was my last hope. No dice, of course.
But then I found the button! I don't know how it wound up in my backyard, but I found it in the snow. Now I just have to find the time to sew it back on. That's the thing. The older I get, the less time I have, it seems. That, too, is a real bummer.
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