Two times of spilled coffee…

…from the screw-off top of my little coffee thermos that I use to pour coffee into and that kind of looks like a small little (Turkish) coffee cup:

1) As I’m getting ready to go into work, I have my stuff arranged oddly, and I go to turn a page of the newspaper that I’m reading, and before I notice what I’m doing, the turning paper flips over my little coffee cup on its side and coffee spills out and all over the table and onto the floor; and

2) Like a day or so later at my one assisted living client’s with disabilities, I’m taking my meal break and eating some pasta that I had brought in in a thing of Tupperware, and when I accidentally bump the little coffee table that I’m eating on in front of the TV, my fork that I had balanced on top of the open Tupperware thing falls off and hits my little coffee cup and knocks it spinning onto the floor, spilling coffee all over.

Another subway trip in like over a month ago:

During the afternoon trip in on my way in to work one afternoon like over a month ago, a (thin) (vaguely gay-looking) (young) (black) guy in a private security uniform who's sitting across from me palms some mace after someone who’s scary but I forget how comes through the car, and then after that person is gone, I strike up a conversation with him and he says you never know what’s going to happen and he carries a gun, too, but he’ll always try the mace first.

A subway trip like a month ago:

1) Coming up at night onto the subway platform near work, there’s so many little blots of what looks like spilled cherry Slurpee all over the platform near the like little booth-like shelter, and a (tall) (stringy) (older) (white) (goateed) (very gay) guy comes up a bit later and starts looking at it, and I start talking with him and he says it’s blood, and then he goes down to talk to the station attendant and then when he comes back up he tells me that, yes, they know, and there’s some down by the vending machine in the station, too.

2) The ride itself home is quiet, except for a hunched-over (old) (black) guy with a cap on down at the far end of the car, who every once in a while raises his arms up spasmodically, and a (very short) (kind of macho) (Mexican) guy who has his phone out and is listening to some (Mexican) music very loudly on it, and who after a while I notice has a baseball cap on that says “CAT DAD,” under his pulled-up hoodie.

3) When I get off at my station, there’s a (very tall) (very thin) (young) (black) guy with a moustache and a short beard and some (long) dreads with (blonde) tinges on them, and he staggers out of the next car up and then swings around and kind of staggers back to like a foot away from a door like he might re-enter and re-board it, but then he just stands there as the doors shut and the train leaves, and then as I slow my walk to wait and see what he’s doing, he walks over to the far side of the platform and just stands there right at the edge of it with his toes over into the cavernous space area where the train runs, and as I walk up farther I can suddenly see a (younger) (apple-shaped) (very normal-looking) (black) woman sitting on a bench, and her eyes are just all big and you can tell that she’s looking at that guy from out of the corner of them.

A resthome tidbit, of a small pleasure.

The other week at the resthome, the one resident who's a retired school nurse was telling everyone that she had just finished reading a young adult novel that she really enjoyed.

It was set in her hometown on the Great Plains under a pseudonymous town name, and it was fun for her to read about a place that she knew, she was telling everyone.

Finding money (2 of 2): A man.

And then, my one assisted living client with disabilities said that her last ex had a nose for money, she's never seen anything like it, that they'd just be somewhere like a bus shelter and all of a sudden he'd be like, "There's money here somewhere," and he'd start looking around, and then right there would be like a ten dollar bill.

And, all of a sudden, the (lesbian) sister was like, "I bet...", and then she just burst out with this huge whole theory about how her ex knew places where seedy cash deals went down, and so of course he'd have a sense of when he'd be in a place like that and he'd know to look around for money that might have dropped down somehow.

"I think you're right," my one assisted living client was like, slowly, and you could just tell that a big light bulb had just gone off for her, too.

Finding money (1 of 2): A woman.

The other week at my one assisted living client's with disabilities, her and her (lesbian) sister were chit-chatting, and her sister was saying that she's found at least a thousand bucks of money lying around, during her lifetime.

Like, once she was coming home from coven and she was worried about how she was going to pay her bills, and just as she was worrying about that, she looked down, and there was a hundred dollar bill.

And another time, she found like over four hundred bucks rolled up on the floor of a bus.

With that, she felt bad for whoever lost it, so she gave like a quarter of it to charity.

"Maybe it was from a drug dealer, and G-d wanted to turn that money to good, so the dealer lost it and you got it," I was like.

"I hope so," the (lesbian) sister was like. "Because I felt bad."

Job repartee (2 of 2): Microwaving stuff.

The other week at the resthome, I was assisting the one resident who used to be a building contractor back to his room like I always do after he got home in the mid-afternoon from his semi-regular noontime-ish appointment, but for some reason his lunch had already been delivered earlier, rather than brought to him right after he got home in the mid-afternoon.

And, we weren't sure how warm everything was, so I began microwaving the two warm vegetable sides, but he said to let him try the soup first, since he doesn't like it hot, anyways.

And, he tried a spoonful, and he was like, "Wow, that's cold!"

So, I went and microwaved that, too.

Then, the entree was a big chef's salad, so I pointed to that, and was like, "Should I microwave that, too? Ten minutes should do it."

And, he laughed, and was like "Get out of here!"