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Rosy Glasses

Fri, 21 Nov 2014, 09:17 PM (-06:00) Creative Commons License

1.

Manny stopped by my desk on his way out of the building. It was Friday. Not many people were left.

“I remember the interview,” he said. Manny told me that he had wondered if the guy was for real. “Could anyone really be that chipper, that optimistic, energetic? He talked non-stop!”

I was tempted to confess being on the other end of the spectrum. But then, he surely knows that.

Eeyore comes to mind, perhaps? My mother called me loose lip. Let’s just say that I lost my rosy glasses.

2.

I’m sitting in the study on a dark and rainy night. The fair and industrious Trudy is far away. It’s very quiet here.

iTunes helps. Bob Schneider, The World Exploded into Love. Bryan Ferry, Love is the Drug. And now there’s another Bob Schneider song. And Mr. Guinness is staring around the corner, alternately sitting and standing wagging his tail. And Miss Izzy is curled up cozy in her bed.

I take out a pen and scribble a little something. Some green. Scribble. Some yellow. Scrabble. Some more green. A little orange. A crooked line around the periphery. Some initials. And… Send!

Within minutes an email hits my in box.

Like! says Trudy.

Wink! I reply.

And oh look, I think I have found those rosy glasses.

© jumpingfish by David Hasan is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License