I guess I really ought not do too much bellyaching about the forlorn state of my social life.  I am still killing down at the Salvation Army thrift store.  I was there on Saturday and a toothless man followed me around the store repeatedly asking me if I work out.

“Yes, I do.” I said.  ”Thanks for noticing.”

He introduced himself to me as Jerome and asked me for my phone number.  I declined. When it came time to pay for my items, I found myself in line behind Jerome.  It was then that I noticed that the words “Pam + Jerome” were written in large, magic marker letters on the back of Jerome’s sweatshirt jacket.

“Who’s Pam?” I asked Jerome.

He was quick to assure me that Pam is old news.  Out of the picture entirely.  Upon going outside, I almost ran Jerome over with my bike as he picked up his suitcase from the crosswalk.

It’s pretty annoying when neighbors whip their unwanted catalogs all over the floor of the lobby of the apartment building, isn’t it?