constance | Sep. 19th, 2006

Here's a thing I like about Georgia: it makes an effort to stay on schedule, weather-wise. It's been hottish and wettish for the past few days, but tomorrow and Thursday are going to be cool and sunny, my favorite weatherly combination. Right on time!

This has been the Week of Breaking Things at our house, apparently. In addition to the toilet (me), we have broken a blue dragonfly decorative bowl (Rachel), a computer hard drive (me, sort of), a glass (Olive), and I almost forgot the packet of six (6) chandelier bulbs sitting on the counter which Olive ground into powder with her fat, high-stepping little body. We also managed to knock an iron fireplace cover on top of ourselves (Flannery), but nothing was broken, fireplace-wise or dog-wise. Ahahahaahaa, and I just heard a crash in the kitchen and went to investigate, but it was only Olive knocking a fork on the floor. Note to self: everything sounds like it's breaking when it hits a ceramic tile floor.

Those of you who're unfortunate enough to have worked retail in the past few years will know the six-foot rule, but for those who don't, it's a rule (dreaded by employees and customers alike) many places follow: you greet every customer who comes within six feet of you. Since this rule completely weirds me out when I'm the one being greeted (picture a maniacal teen at Old Navy hollering HI WELCOME TO OLD NAVY at you before you're fully inside the store) I tend to follow it only when I make eye contact with customers at the bookstore, and my coworkers admit they do something similar. Today, however, I saw the most awesome manifestation of the six-foot rule it has ever been my privilege to witness; I went into a boutique, the kind where you can see everything in the store from the cash register, was greeted by every employee as I made my way through to the back, and sometimes, if I happened to infringe upon someone's six-foot radius, I was greeted twice or even three times. Those shopclerks were trained, man. They were a well-oiled greeting machine.

They had a truly glorious pair of shoes, though, beautiful and comfortable, so I've forgiven them.

No one has spoken like a pirate to me all day long. But the fact that the little livejournal head-icons (what on earth do you call those things?) all have tiny little eye patches makes up for this a bit.

constance blackwood