I am in our nation’s capital for work this week and this morning I was walking M Street to get to Connecticut because I wanted to get donuts from Golden Brown Delicious, this place where we ate bonkers amazing fried chicken last night. A guy passed on his bike and right as he went by the plastic takeout bag he was carrying tore open and a container emptied his pancakes onto the ground. I thought, Oh, I should totally acknowledge this guy and say something nice because it might counteract the poop sandwich he was just handed, but then because I am a nutcase with a lot of weird baggage, I thought, I shouldn’t acknowledge this because that might be embarrassing for him.
I get to the spot, pick up the donuts—they were beautiful and amazing—and I have the box in one hand and two coffees stacked in the other. I am walking confidently and as was very clearly inevitable, the stacked coffee topples and spills all over my coat. The woman behind me immediately speaks up, sweetly offering, Oh, that’s too bad! I am so sorry that happened to you. Can I help you? Keep smiling! It’s only a small bump! I smile and laugh and acknowledge that maybe I was being too ambitious and my day is made.
Sorry for my silence, Spilled Breakfast.
Also of interest: I think I saw Delta Burke, or a woman who I imagined to be Delta Burke, and I thought she checked me out until I got back to the hotel and realized that I had buttoned my coat incorrectly and she probably just wanted to politely let me know that I looked wild.