I haven't bought stamps in a while. I keep borrowing one here and there. I have lived in this house for a year and I don't even know how to mail things from here (there's some weird cluster mailbox with all these slots, and one of them is for outgoing mail but I don't know which one, so when I approach it I get all scared that someone is watching me and thinking, "Oh look at the dumb girl, she just put her letter in the Dear Santa slot." So then I run away and have someone else mail my letter for me)
So today I went by CVS to pick up a few things, and in my overtired, coffee jittered state, I think I may have caused a nice young man to rethink his job choice. I walked up to the counter with neosporin, envelopes, and shampoo. Then I dropped it all. And yelled, "shit". And then picked it up and laughed like a hyena to myself. And then? Well then I said, "Hey Dave!" Because according to his nametag, he's Dave. But he didn't like that.
While ringing me up, I said, "Do you all sell stamps?"
"Yes," said Dave, noticibly grumpy.
"Well I need 2."
"I can't sell you just 2."
"But Dave, I only need 2, not the whole bucket."
(Yes, I said bucket. I don't know why I was thinking about a bucket. But it was out there. Hanging...in the air...between me and Dave)
Rolling his eyes and sighing deeply Dave said, "Do you want a roll of stamps?"
And I, leaning in (realizing I'd yet to brush my teeth) said, " Nope, I want the other thing. The flat thing. Ya know?"
"A book?"
"Yes! That's it. A book of stamps!"
"All we have are Liberty Bells."
"Bollocks!"
(all was lost at this point, so I threw in an English accent for good measure)
"Your total is $18.78."
"Oookey Doke. Thanks Dave!!"
As I left, all I heard was..
"I'm goin' on break."
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