Living the Dream

Every weekday morning, if I have budgeted for it, I stop by a coffee shop located in a local grocery store.

Truth be told, sometimes I stop for the company rather than the coffee, even though those who know me well will testify that I bleed caffeine.  This shop offers me a free drink of my choice after I have purchased twelve.  That, in addition to my "gold card" status, allows me to have a couple of free drinks every two weeks or so.

The manager of the coffee shop and I have become friends of a sort.  She knows the days I don't feel well, because most of those days she is hurting, too.  She had back surgery a few years ago, and every time rain is threatened, she aches.  We commiserate over our shared pain on those days, talk about her son and his girlfriend, my MIL, her new house, and anything else that comes to mind.  I offer her free tickets to concerts that I score from work, and every now and then she'll offer to let me have my coffee at the refill discount or share expired cookies with me.

In my mind, we understand each other.

Today when I stopped by, she was busy.  Always moving, always finding something that needs doing, she rarely has time to chat.  Today I could tell she was in more pain than usual, but when I asked her about how she was doing, you wouldn't have known it.

"Just livin' the dream, Kiddo.  Just livin' the dream."

This from someone who regularly works 40 - 60-hour weeks.

Wow.