Smallhouse Log

Tuesday

My entire kitchen smells like nutmeg. It took me a couple days to figure this out, but sure enough, once I finally said to myself, "This is nutmeg you smell every time you walk into the kitchen," I realized that the nutmeg container must have leaked during the various bouts of storage and moving. Thankfully, it appears to be the only one.

So yesterday I resolved (because it was raining and I think it's closer to the apartment) to try out the Coffee Pot and Mail Drop over on Archer rather than go to the Bridgeport Coffee House. It's a pretty nice little coffee shop with a performing arts space in the basement and that also happens to rent mailboxes. I asked about this, and was told by the owner that he used to run a Mailboxes Inc., but hated the company, so he changed to a coffee shop. He seemed to imply that he liked renting mailboxes too much to give it up, though.

When I entered the coffeeshop for the first time, a girl standing in front of the counter started staring at me. As I approach the counter I start to give her a curious look. She looks as though she is about to speak, and just before she does, a voice behind me says, "[girl's name]?". She turns to this voice and asks, "[boy's name]?", then turns back to me with a questioning look. I take a step back and say "I'm just here...." As the confusion washes off her face and she turns back to her blind date, I also turn to look at him. The reason for her confusion becomes clear: We are both wearing glasses, ponytails, and black zip-up hoodies that say "STAFF". We both came in listening to iPods, tucked into our hoodies in the same manner, even. And we'd apparently come in withing seconds of each other. I found it amusing.

Comments have closed.