This morning on my walk to work, I passed three unaccompanied minors, including one in a stroller being pushed by the oldest minor who might have been twelve-years-old.
At some point on said walk, I lost the envelope containing my rent, which I had foolishly stuck in a shallow blazer coat pocket. Because it was warm enough today to wear a blazer with shallow pockets. Twelve hours later I walked the same route home on the off chance that I might spot my rent, after 8pm, in the dark, in a gutter and still successfully mail it.
Do you have any idea how much paper trash there is in South Philadelphia? And yet I would get excited from half a block away at the sight of half a styrofoam cup flattened on the sidewalk that looked from a distance to be the same proportions as an envelope. Of course, my rent is out there in the world, so why shouldn’t it be in the middle of the sidewalk in front of me?
Needless to say, I didn’t find it.