Stuck in a Furrow

I love people-watching. I can do it for a whole shift at the mall...there is nothing else to do most of the time. I can come up with all kinds of elaborate stories in my mind about other's lives and what they are about. It passes time. At my office, there is a window right by my desk. I can watch patients come and go, usually I can get a chuckle out of watching them try to park. I am amazed that some of our patients even have a license. Anyways, there are a few people that pass by my window every day. There is Bernice (that is what I call her. She seems like a Bernice). She wears a long black skirt every day...without fail and a black fleece jacket and sports a large purse. Sometimes she has an umbrella. She has her greying hair in a bun. I wonder where she walks and what is in her purse. She seems like an artist. Maybe she carries paints and heads to Rotary park and paints the city skyline. Maybe she goes to the local school and teaches art for an hour or two. Maybe she gets a vanilla latte from the Second Cup and people watches.

There is a group of 3 highschool girls that pass by around 3:30. They are always dressed in the shortest skirts or the tightest pants and Uggs. I'm surprised they haven't frozen their woohoos. They always have earbuds in but seem to be carrying on a conversation with each other. I imagine that they are really intellectual girls and they are disussing world politics or something like that. I'm sure they are not. They are probably discussing boys. About 10 steps behind them, is the unpopular girl. She is always a few steps behind but they don't ackknowledge her. She wears sweats a lot...and a ponytail. Was I that girl in highschool? Always on the cusp of the cool crowd? I think I was. It helps me sleep at night to think that I wasn't miles away from popularity. I probably was miles away.

There are the boys that smoke right behind our fence. They think it makes them look tough but they cough and hack and are all red in the face. They make me laugh.

Sometimes I don't get anywork done because I'm too busy staring out the window. And then I get freaked out thinking that someone is probably watching me when I walk down the street or in the mall. I hope they come up with a good story for me. I'd hate to be boring...