Muses

Squatter’s Rights on a table and the Eager Beaver.

He just tried to snake my salad.

UGH.

The overeager, overachieving bus person had his hand on my salad bowl.

“Excuse me,” I said looking first at his hand and then to his face. “I’m not done yet.”

You want to freak somebody out….

that freaked out eager-beaver table cleaner.

Having time to kill in Athens, I decided to work and treat myself to lunch. I don’t do this ever for I am a good curb-excess-spending wife and mother.

And this guy was trying to take my salad.

Don’t come between a woman and her salad. One that is a treat she rarely enjoys. (Don’t come between me and any food actually.)

Clearly, I had hardly been here 30 minutes and though the restaurant was busy, no one was waiting for a table.

I was abiding by all the establishment’s login “thou shalts” as I understood them. And besides, this was a treat. He wanted me to rush through my ice cream sundae with sprinkles. (Well, my theoretical ice cream sundae.)

I figured an hour was fair enough for a ten dollar purchase.

The Beaver didn’t think so.

I’m bugging the poo out of him and he’s a little shaken. I see him as he furiously sweeps under the tables around me.

Close. But not too close.

It’s not fair that the woman across from me has sat there with her lunch companion — not eating, talking away — longer than I and he hasn’t reached for her bowl.

Clearly, my equal rights under the 14th Amendment as it applies to large franchise eateries with free WiFi had been violated.

No, there’s safety in numbers. The Beaver only looks for the lone pathetic woman (having a wonderful time) to try to hurry out the door.