WTPH

This morning, I was running super late. I grabbed my stuff, got my coat, and hurried out the door. As I walked down my front stairs to the sidewalk, there, on the bottom of the stoop, on sidewalk level, was a pair of Nike sneakers. I could tell that they had been worn, but they were still pretty nice. The style was a little bit Grandpa-ish. They were perfectly placed, side by side, at the bottom of my outside stairs. Facing my house. I was in such a rush I just walked by them, looking over my shoulder as I walked away, thinking “is someone coming back for those?” It felt like a scene in an arty movie. Like there was some sort of meaning there that was just beyond my understanding.

When I am confused, sometimes I say “What the aitch?” When things are super duper confusing, Nordic Boy will up the ante and say “What the Preparation aitch?” This was definitely a What the Preparation Aitch sort of moment. Any ideas on what that was all about, people?
Also, at lunch today, I was in a deli, and there was this businessman in there who looked like he was dripping money. His coat was thick cashmere and his shoes looked expensive and on point. He even had a sort of silky ascot on. Thurston Howell the Third, he was. I was behind him waiting to throw out my garbage after eating, and he stood in front of the garbage receptacles- one for recycling, one for composting, and one for landfill. All were clearly labeled and had photos of what things go in which. He stood there, looking at the receptacles, and then angrily dumped all of his stuff into the landfill bin, not separating anything out. He looked at me dead in my eyes and huffed “I guess I’m supposed to go HUG A TREE or something.” And he stormed out.
What the Preparation aitch, people.
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