It has been a while since I've blogged on. My summer has been spent selling my home, which I accomplished, and buying another. If ever there was a buyer's market, this is it.While I've been waiting for our new home to close, my trio ( man, woman, fat and flatulent dog) have been holed up in a motel for almost three weeks. It hasn't been that bad, except for one thing: an event I call the daily Breakfast Battle.
This place where we are staying offers a measly little breakfast in a small dining room. One thing I've noticed about Americans: no matter how disgusting the fare, no matter how meager or unappealing the meal, when the words"FREE FOOD" are advertised, my fellow countrymen and I line up and jostle for position like starving Somalians. Starving Somalians would probably have better manners.
If this sounds like I am being overly critical of my motel mates, well, it comes from living here for three weeks.This is about survival. I've come to think of this place as home, and if this is home, who are all these people in my dining room every morning? The one- nighters are the worst. Who do they think they are, grabbing the last bagel or draining the coffeepot just when I'm about to get my caffeine fix? These folks are here today and gone tomorrow. What ever happened to the notion of seniority? Particularly irritating is when some overnighter kid takes the last little package of jelly. Those jellies are a particular favorite of mine, and here comes some diminutive human grabbing the last one, as though I just checked in. Sorry, kid. Not gonna happen.
We have two more nights here, and it's for the best, for I have become more and more aggressive in the breakfast line. I'm a big man, and lately it has occurred to me to use my superior size to gain the breakfast I desire. My big body is especially effective in shouldering smaller people out of the way, especially women. If some female is making her move for the last muffin, BAM, I'm not above slamming her out of the way, much like a hockey player might take an opposing player to the boards. It's just a muffin, but it's free, and it's mine.
Being tall is another advantage in the breakfast room. When some kid is positioning himself for some morsel that rightfully should be mine, I employ a technique I've developed which I call "going over the top". As the youthful midget extends his hand to grab the desired breakfast object, I come in from above and snatch it. Lately, I've noticed parents giving me the evil eye.I don't care. I was a teacher for 32 years and parents gave me the evil eye all the time.
So now I rest, for tomorrow is another day and another battle to be waged.
