Friday Ramble

muffinsI woke up this morning, determined to get my annual blood work and urine screening done.  The good Dr. Garces ordered it over a week ago, but I wanted to be good for a week so my numbers wouldn’t be too bad.  I know, I know.  After a zillion years as a student, I still want to pass every test.  In this case, being good consisted of a week of the South Beach Diet, Phase 1.  Translation: Almost zero carbs.  Don’t worry too much, Dr. Garces always orders an A1c test which measures average blood glucose over roughly the last six weeks, so if I’ve been bad, he’ll know.  The lab was relatively quiet this morning … I was in and out in 15 minutes instead of the usual 45. I stopped at McDonald’s to pick up some breakfast to take to the park, choosing two Egg McMuffins and a large coffee.  I know what you are thinking … blood work over, back to his evil ways. Wrong!  I ate only the egg, Canadian bacon and cheese, which, of course, left me with two perfectly good English muffins.  Rather than throw them in the trash, I tossed them out my car window onto the grass next to my favorite parking place where somebody .. probably a goose, duck or squirrel … might find them.  Waste not, you know?

Our park has a wide assortment of denizens, human and otherwise, and as one of the humans who is here fairly often, I know most of them by appearance if not by name.  One group I see regularly is an older gentleman with two severely disabled young men who wander through the park once a day pickinggrabber up trash.  We humans can be such slobs … it is good to see someone cleaning up for no reason other than making the world a cleaner place.  As one of the young men passed my car, he saw two of my muffins and rushed over to pick them up with his trash picker.  Look, muffins, he said.  Gotta throw the muffins in the trashThrow the muffins in the trash.  My first instinct was to tell him they were for the birds but I kept my mouth shut.  I’d like to tell you that it was entirely because he seemed so excited to have something of substance to clean up.  I’d like to but I have to admit, there was also that trepidation I always feel around the mentally disabled.  What if.  He doesn’t understand you.  Is hostile. Name your own.  Yeah, I guess it’s natural but I’m still not proud of it.   I considered retrieving the muffins from the trash once they’d moved on, but somehow, that didn’t seem right.

What’s the point? I’m not sure.  I think it was an apology of sorts.  Or not.  Rambles don’t always have points. Sometimes, they just fill the page.

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