To Dream… of Pickles…

It’s going to be another exciting day of grocery shopping tomorrow. I am looking at the current financial situation and I might be able to do the going out for breakfast thing too. I love that, all the great breakfast aroma and none of the dishes to wash after. What could be better than that? Well, a lot of things, but lets not get all complicated. There is a good breakfast place which gives me a pretty good walk to get to, down on Queen Street. You get a good breakfast for your bucks and you don’t leave there thinking about food for a long time. Unless you see one of those annoying, nagging commercials for fast food on TV.

It’s going to be Friday tomorrow. The most popular day for people who work Monday – Friday jobs. Otherwise Friday loses it’s prestige. It doesn’t rank as special when you know you’ve got the weekend ahead of you, to work. Of course, when you’re not working all the days kind of blend together and none of them are all that special. Not that each day isn’t special just for existing and the fact that I’m existing too. But, so few days really stand out. I am sick of thinking about money too, budgeting and planning ahead.

There are so many things I’d like to buy. I could go on such a good shopping spree. Once I get that second pay cheque I will be hitting a few stores. Some of it isn’t just fluff either. Some of it is of course. For instance, I’d like to get a big poster of some kind to stick on the wall that I face as I sit here on the computer. The bland wall just isn’t that inspiring. Maybe that’s a good thing for the times I should be writing but it doesn’t matter what is there once I get writing. My brain wouldn’t see anything except whatever is happening on the inside, under my skull inside all that mushy grey matter.

I’m also looking forward to buying at least one jar of baby dill pickles. Most likely the Bick’s brand cause I like how they crunch and yet they aren’t sweet tasting. I have a story about my first apartment when I was 16 and the Bick’s pickles plant in Scarborough. On my very first night there, after my room mate left to pick up more men and bring them back to her lair or whatever she did with them that night, I was alone during a black out. That was kind of freaky. All my stuff was half packed up still, my family were gone back to the family homestead and I didn’t know anyone for kilometres around. All the outside lights were out, the streetlights too. I sat on the floor inside, by the outside balcony and the only light I could see anywhere at all was the sign at the Bick’s pickles plant. It was nice, friendly. I’ve always remembered that and I almost always buy Bick’s pickles when I’m into pickle buying mode. Luckily, I really do like pickles.

Coffee is cold and I skimped on the cream tonight so it didn’t taste all that great anyway. I’m off to bed early. To read.

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