Basically, I am having a doo-doo pile of a day. I mean, it's not horrible or anything like that; I'm not on the verge of being fired, or, at least, I hope not. I'm just busy and tired and backlogged and now I'm hungry. So hungry.
I am trying to get home, debating going to the store (I don't) or maybe ordering take-out (I don't). The only good thing about today's late schedule is that I can take the direct route home past the elementary school because it is long-past bus pick-up time. Yes, I decide to head straight home, which is where I hope to be until a truck pulls in front of me. He is turning at the light, same as am I, and he takes so long to get through the maneuver that I almost miss the light, and I'm the second vehicle in line behind him.
And then ... I look up and take notice. "A. Duie Pyle." Perfect. No, truly. I am having a doo-ey pile of a day myself. Suddenly, I feel a lot better, and I smile, I grin, and I chuckle a little bit.
I follow the truck all the way to my street, kind of sad when we part ways. Here's to you, A. Duie Pyle. I don't know who you are nor what you've got inside your container, but I can attest that just your name and presence is a mood changer.
Not only does my day seem a lot better right now -- slightly ironic, but definitely better -- but I am home. Foraging through the freezer, I find dinner (honey BBQ wings and french fries), so all is right with the world.
