In Which I am anointed with Essence of Roses

Greetings Gate. How's the vout, Jack? O-roonie, I'm sure and likewise here.

So I was at the IBB before perambulating across the boulevard to work and just on the point of departure for said destination when Mr B. from down the street comes in and orders his usual, which is a latte made with soy milk ... which at least is not tofu, that being bland and tasteless ... when he turns to me and says:

"You know, your name came up in conversation at my store earlier on."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, we're looking to hire some more people. I didn't know if you were interested or not."

"Tell you what, I'll bring you my resume and maybe we can talk some time soon."

"That would great. I think you're kind of wasted over there ... not that kind of wasted, you know what I mean."

"Sure. I'll drop my resume off. Out of curiosity, who mentioned my name ... D.?"

"Yes, it was D."

Now Gate, that's interesting. I mean besides a new work prospect. D. is very cute, but I shouldn't think there's any reason she mentioned my name other than that she's been impressed with my customer service abilities. No, absolutely not.

So we were unpacking a huge shipment of essential oils this afternoon and J. opened up a small bottle of essence of roses. It was thick and deliciously aromatic. She put a whopping amount on her finger tips and proceeded to brush it into my hair and my forehead. Then she did the same to herself. There was the lovely scent of roses where ever we turned, swirling all around us. Rather nice.