"I was wearing that shirt yesterday," said the guy
in line ahead of me as he double-fisted his groceries
onto the conveyor belt. He was about thirty-two, your
average Joe with a baseball cap and five o'clock shadow.
I looked down to remember which shirt it was.
A black tee with "I'm blogging this." written
across the chest in non-descript white lettering.
"Yeah. My roommate got it for me as a joke,"
I replied, reaching for the plastic divider to
put between our respective items in order to
eliminate any confusion for the cashier.
"It's not the kind of thing you buy for yourself."
"Tell me about it," he said emphatically.
"My wife gave me mine. She makes fun of me
for constantly blogging from my desk at work."
We felt each other's pain in quiet understanding
and went about our business
feeling slightly less alone in a world
who misunderstands us and our stupid hobby.
We made each other's days
in well under one hundred fifty words.
I bet he told his wife all about it when he got home
right after he told his computer.
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