It’s 8 a.m.  I won’t lie:  I seldom get up this early. If I’m up at 8:00, I’m reading science fiction or Jane Austen (there are similarities) while the coffee brews.  Only today it won’t brew:  the machine keeps flashing the CLEAN sign, and  I can’t face the odor of the vinegar rinse.

I’ll do it tomorrow.

I head to the coffee house.

8:15:  It is a long, long line. Some people are jovial, chirping about their plans for the Fourth of July.  I stand in line reading a review of the new Planet of the Apes movie.  Finally I order my epic coffee and find a chair outside. I read an editorial on the presidential debate, which I did not see and which journalists are taking too seriously (because how many people watched it?), when a guy looks at my purse and says, “Military issue, right?”

Gosh, should I be flattered or spooked? I am filled with gloom. “I bought it at Target,” I say.  I’m wearing scrubs (a gift from a doctor’s wife) so hoped I’d be mistaken for a doctor, but, no, my bag gives me a MILITARY look.

After the trauma of hearing “military issue” applied to my purse, I feel a need for decadent chocolate.  If I breakfast on chocolate, ALL WILL BE WELL. I rush to the drugstore, seeking solace in the cookie aisle. It’s not a controlled substance, but it is known as “junk” food, so I prefer to buy it at the self checkout.

Unfortunately the self-checkout lane is closed.

Well, it’s better to interact with people anyway. The cashiers will lose their jobs if everyone prefers self-checkout.  As I stand in line and see what others are buying, I don’t feel bad about the chocolate at all. It’s practically health food. It’s holiday food.

Happy Fourth of July!