Yesterday, while I was waiting for my dear Robert Jones to pull the car around Century Ballroom, so that I could get some of his much needed assistance to schlep a Crock Pot and a baby shower giftie up the stairwell, a very chirpy young gentleman with a messenger bag and a five oclock shadow (at 2) asked me if I might need some help carrying them upstairs. (I was sitting on the bottom step in my flamingo dress and yellow heels, looking rather waifish and forgotten, no doubt.) My first impulse is always to turn down help unless I am in absolute dire need, but he looked so excited to help. Golden retrievers come to mind, but in a really good way. Anyway, we chatted up the long stairwell and found the right ballroom. I thanked him, and asked his name. With all the hustle and bustle, I have forgotten it. :( So, thank you, random young pup, who helped a dame out. (He also made it so Rob wouldnt have to climb those stairs after his surgery too!)
Posted on: Mon, 21 Jul 2014 22:02:38 +0000
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