I’m sitting in the corner of the coffee shop observing everyone. There are one, two, three, four, five other customers sitting at their tables. Every one one of them is absorbed in their smartphones. We have come to this point. I used to predict how the future would look and got some of it right. One of those things was something like Youtube. I believed every person would have his/her/their own channel. For the most part, it ended up being correct. Except I don’t have a channel and I doubt I ever will.
Another prediction was that the cars would be rounder than before. They were too boxy in the eighties and nineties. The manufacturers decided, “Hey, it’s the future. Let’s make everything round.” Lo and behold, I saw them on the streets, these older models, round and futuristic. Some of them came out ugly, others improved.
Anyway, it’s a growing concern to me how everyone is stuck to their phones. I’m guilty as well except for now. The phone will distract me from emptiness later today. I’ll keep checking for new emails without a clue of what I’m looking for.
How will this Monday unfold? There’s a lot of anxiety about going back to work. I don’t know what emails I’ll have to deal with or how much work is in front of me.
My birthday was yesterday. Mom and Dad showed up to my door in the middle of the afternoon after a long drive back in town, anxious to see how my air conditioner was working. It impressed them how cold it was in my apartment.
After a few hours of chatting, we went to a restaurant called Lulu’s for dinner. The heat was one-hundred-and-eleven degrees. It was a slow, painful walk there, as if we were walking in mud, hot mud. Lulu’s was cool inside. The manager sat us in the middle of the dining area. Mom asked if the patio was comfortable enough to sit in. I thought she’d gone insane. We whined at the fact that they served Pepsi, not Coke. I ordered a Pepsi anyway, even if it’s far too inferior.
Our waiter didn’t have much of a personality. My father commented on that when she wasn’t around. She was more of a Flo from Flo’s diner, the type of waiter who would carry a pencil on her ear to take down our orders on a small pad.
Dad ordered the strawberry salad with shrimp. Not only did I wonder what the hell a strawberry salad would be, but who would eat shrimp with strawberries?
I ordered the swiss and mushroom burger, medium rare, while my mother ordered the chicken sandwich. The burger was charbroiled, which I don’t prefer, with romaine as its lettuce when it’s usually iceberg. It took up over thirty percent of the burger. I deleafed most of the lettuce to where there was only one slice. The cheeseburger wasn’t as much as a job as it was before.
My mother became fascinated by the tables because some of them had hooks on the underside of them, not all of them. Ours didn’t. She could’ve hung her purse on the hook. I could’ve hung my hat there since I wasn’t wearing it indoors.
We left Lulu’s and came back to my apartment for carrot cake and red velvet cake to celebrate my birthday. I ate only a few bites because I had eaten too much. They left after eating the cake to drive home and unpack. I still had to go grocery shopping to my chagrin.
Now it’s Monday. I’ll face the music at work. At least Thursday will be July Fourth. Only a four-day work week is ahead of me.
