Today

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I went to a baby shower. The mother-to-be is becoming a single mom by choice.

This onesie was mixed into a pre-arranged gift basket.

The mom-to-be thought it was hilarious, fortunately. She cracked a joke about the sperm donor, whoever he may be.  Your friends might not be so understanding so proceed with caution.

 

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I went to the strangest CVS after the baby shower. It wasn’t strange in that it had no lines for the pharmacy, or that it had friendly employees. No. It was strange because it was housed in a historic-looking building.

According to Ephemeral New York, 81 Eighth Avenue in Chelsea used to be New York Savings Bank.

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“If you bougie, I’m ghetto”

      – CVS customer to CVS manager

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As I used the self-service check out register – the only option offered at this CVS today – I sensed someone looking over my shoulder.
“Excuse me?” I said to the small Asian woman who was, in fact, peering into the shopping bag I was loading my items after scanning.
She said nothing. Her companion, a disheveled white man, also looked toward my purchases.
“A little space please?”
“We’re waiting for your register,” the man offered.
“There are others.”
Before I could say more, a CVS employee shooed them away.
“She’s drunk. Can’t you smell her?”
Oh. I grabbed my bag of Allegra, vitamin D and a Mother’s Day card, and headed for the sanity of Brooklyn.
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