I was feeling a little blue (couldn't be the constant downpours, drizzle, sheets of rain, mud, green slime, wads of wet gloves in cold puddles at the bottom of saddle-bags, etc. could it??) when I schlepped into a Starbucks in my muddy buddies. The barista filled up my thermos and gave me a lop-sided grin. "On the house!"
"But why?" I gaped. My brain went through exactly this sequence: "Do I look needy?Does my garden gear make me look like a hobo?? Is he even allowed to do that?...Why is he smiling like that?..."
I'm so going to write a rainy day blues song about baristas.
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