Living on top of the hill has never proved so convenient. Since I can not drive (or don't know how to drive) down the hill, I have been confined to an icy-slope, laden with sledding fiends since Wednesday. Don't get me wrong, it brings me pleasure to hear the lively shouts of adults in the late hours. When else would it be appropriate for "football and tits" men to belt out in soprano-like fashion, "Whoooo-hooo!" at the top of their lungs?
This afternoon I set out, with low expectations, to shop for the most important people in my life. Was it possible to purchase for such a diverse group within a five-block radius? Luckily, I was able to find what I needed...even if it meant improvisation. When I stopped at the fabric store, I inquired whether or not I would be able to write a check for fifty cents. All I wanted were the googly-eyes. The woman at the counter said, "Look, do you live on the hill?"
"I do."
"Next time you're around, drop off the fifty cents you owe."
"Oh....uh, really? Are you sure?"
"Yeah...yeah..."
Then the woman at the check stand next to me pulled out two quarters from her pocket. "Here, I got it," she smiled.
I was stunned. The woman at the counter then encouraged me to pay it forward.
I beamed all the way home...
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