August 8 The Pen
I took my own pen into the bank last week. I always do. I have this thing about bank pens – they freak me out. As I started to fill out the little slip of the obvious I noticed a drop of royal blue blood splash onto the counter. Then another, and another. My trusty pen was in the throws of a violent death, and it was trying to take me and the bank counter down with it. It ended quickly, thanks to the fast thinking of a helpful clerk who had seen her fair share of pen fatalities.
It was my first.
Today, I am thankful for
- the bank clerk and her bucket of handy ink-vanishing wipes.
- the time to learn a few new tunes.
- checking off the last of the week’s monstrous to-do list, just in time.