In which Monica is contemplative.
On my way home from the library/post office/courthouse today, I came up behind Garrette Turner (the bane of my elementary-school existence, but I haven't seen him in six or seven years). When he looked at me, he said "Hey, Monica!" And I said hello. I was rather surprised that he remembered my name, as I was just one of his older sister's friends.
Then he said "Did you ride all the way to the library?" I toyed with the idea of telling him that I actually went all the way to the post office, which is about twice as far, and then answered in the affirmative. And he said "Wow. That's really far, good job." And I rode past him.
Not only did he remember my name, he was mildly impressed by my bicycle-riding prowess. I'm moderately upset by this, but I can't really put my finger on why.
Then he said "Did you ride all the way to the library?" I toyed with the idea of telling him that I actually went all the way to the post office, which is about twice as far, and then answered in the affirmative. And he said "Wow. That's really far, good job." And I rode past him.
Not only did he remember my name, he was mildly impressed by my bicycle-riding prowess. I'm moderately upset by this, but I can't really put my finger on why.