A brief interlude while at work:

Getting on the train this morning, I was on line behind a rather large (rotund, not tall) woman wearing bright orange velvet pants with a floral pattern embossed throughout the velvet.

My though on seeing this was, “Wow, her ass looks like a bad upholstered couch from the 70s.” That said, if I actually found a couch upholstered in that fabric, I would buy it in a heartbeat. Pants in that pattern are NOT flattering.

Secondly, I napped on the train – dozed, really. I had my head propped up on my carpal tunnel hand and it was rather painful, so I leaned my head a little more to the left… and ah. It came to rest against the window. My hand was released from its painful ministrations and I thought to myself, “A window is never too far away.

Lastly, I noticed that my cuticles were nasty and dry. I happened to have a little tube of Caswell & Massey rose-scented hand balm with me. I applied that to my hands and was enjoying the lovely scent of roses that wafted from my hands. While dozing away, I remembered that the scent of roses is usually linked with the appearance of apparitions of saints. And I wondered if anyone on the train was a crazy Catholic who would smell my hand lotion and think that they’d just missed or somehow experienced a vision of a saint… and that I’d see it in the paper the next day, “Retired schoolteacher sees St. Therese of Lisieux aboard NJ Transit train…”

Or something.

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