This morning found me and Rosa eating at the diner. The sound of dishes being washed and the smell of frying bacon permeated the air. I was in far left field as Rosa attempted a conversation with me.
"What did you think of what your father did last night?" she asked.
"Oh, he was just acting out," I replied, eating my omelet. "He was just pissed cause I told him the truth. My day did suck yesterday."
My father had gone storming out of my house when I lit up a cigarillo inside last night.
"I am not going to be around smoking with my heart!" he hollered.
I had to bite my tongue and not say that the 12 hour stressful days he works at his all consuming business were far more damaging to his heart than just one cigarillo smoked around him. He was being silly and just wanted to piss me off. I didn't bite.
"Are we going to go get you some new shoes, today?" Rosa then asked.
"Yeap," I replied. "And I need some new windshield wipers as well."
"When do you start your art classes?"
"I am going to call that woman today," I replied. "I wish I could start tomorrow."
As is customary for Rosa, we were having our usual one hundred questions session. She so reminds me of my mother in this regard.
We left the diner as the rain was softly falling. I couldn't see shit out of the windshield of my car. I was hunched over like some hunchback looking through a small window of opportunity. Rosa laughed.
"You look constipated hunched over like that," she said.
I burst out laughing enjoying some early morning bathroom humor. Hey, I am a guy. Luckily, the diner isn't far from my house and we made it home safely.