I have a habit that I wish I could get rid of: whenever anyone sneezes, I look to see what they do with their hands.  Invariably, they say, “Thanks,” to those who said, “God bless you,” and then they slowly sneak their hands under their desk and wipe them off on their pants.

We passed a stand selling bags of apples for $3.00 at the Ashfield town fair.  A sign said, “Free tastes!”  This made me angry and sad.  Angry at the people who wouldn’t spend three dollars to buy an entire bag of apples unless they get a free sample.  Sad that the sellers used an exclamation point to show their enthusiasm for catering to the cheap and picky.  I said, “Ha.  Free tastes.”  Kerry looked over and said that she wanted to buy a bag.  It ended up that each row was a different variety of apple, but not the standard Granny Smith or Macintosh.  They were exotic kinds I’d never heard of like Akero, Garland, and Sandow.  A single apple sat behind each row, so the guy could cut a slice and give it to the customer.  Kerry tried a few, found one she really liked (Park’s Pippen) and said, “Wow, this is awesome.  I’m glad I tried it.”  The guy looked at me and said, “That’s why we offer free tastes.”

      On my way to work last week, I saw a homeless woman standing at a traffic light with a sign asking for money; I was going to give her a dollar, but then I noticed that she had an expression of forced misery, like someone doing an exaggerated sad face.  My pity switched to resentment, as I felt tricked into feeling bad.  When I drove past her and got a closer look, I saw that she was genuinely and profoundly miserable as if she had just escaped from a labor camp. I felt terrible and hated myself for being so uptight over a stupid dollar.  Today, at the same traffic light, I saw another homeless person over-projecting their destitute misery; once again, I felt manipulated and put my wallet away; then, as I drove by, I was again horrified as I saw a deeply miserable person and realized it was the same woman.