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not a mystery shopper
Saturday, April 2 2016
Today Gretchen would be leaving for a week in the Yucatán of Mexico to do a Spanish immersion in a language school in Tulum. But first we had time for our weekly ritual involving a french press of coffee. It was raining outside, so Gretchen had even more time than expected, since the dogs couldn't be taken for much of a walk. (She took them on a short walk anyway, mostly for Neville's benefit. Eleanor, being the most rain-adverse dog, didn't go.)
Because of the decreasing effectiveness of the Subaru's clutch, Gretchen had suggested I keep the Prius for my use during her week in Mexico. This meant, of course, that I would have to drive her to the airport and pick her up when she returned. But she'd be flying out of Albany (only 50 miles away), so that wasn't too much of a hardship. Gretchen grabbed her single backpack of luggage and we loaded up all three dogs and headed north on the Thruway. A little less than an hour later, I kissed Gretchen goodbye for the week and allowed Ramona to occupy the front passenger seat. But after a few miles southbound, Neville somehow made it over the barricade between the front seats and joined Ramona on the passenger seat. After that, Ramona couldn't figure out how to get comfortable, and eventually she retreated over the barricade to join Eleanor in the backseat.
The backseat today on the drive to Albany. In the foreground is Ramona, in the middle is Neville, and in the background is Eleanor. Note the pink mark near Ramona's eye. She recently had a scab there after a mysterious abrasion injury.
I stopped at the New Baltimore service area to let the dogs out in case they needed to poop or piss (I was particularly worried about Eleanor, who, you'll remember, hadn't gone on the morning walk.) But there is almost no grass at New Baltimore. I found a tiny triangular patch of grass southwest of the gas station (42.426573N, 73.806389W) and opened the doors there. Ramona and Neville both got out and both urinated, but Eleanor was content to just hang out in the back seat.
Gretchen had almost forgotten about the birthday of a friend before leaving for Mexico, and, after remembering last night, had stayed up late to bake her a cake. But by the time she thought about mailing it, all the convenient post offices along the way (particularly the one in Old Hurley) had closed. So it fell to me to mail the cake after I returned to Kingston. I drove out to the Midtown post office (which is across Cornell Street from the Shirt Factory, the place where the nude model classes happen) and went in a good 40 minutes before its 4:00pm closing time. While one employees dealt with my package, the other kept chiming in about every aspect of it (particularly when I admitted that the package contained a perishable). Then, just as a I was leaving, the employee who had been chiming in tipped me off as to why he and the other employee had been so focused on my package. They'd apparently been tipped off that a mystery shopper would be coming this afternoon, and they'd initially thought the mystery shopper was me.
With all my work done for the day, I could finally crack open a cold one for the drive home. The drinking continued back at the house, but it made me sleepier than usual. I always think I'm going to really enjoy Gretchen being gone and drinking on my own, though it never ends up being as fun as I expect. Eventually I went to bed, slept until 9:00pm, and then woke up and had a whole other part of my evening, one in which I watched most of Fargo (one of my favorite movies) yet again. This time, though, I skipped most of the scenes involving police.
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