Sending Out Some Packages and Picking Up Lunch
I had three boxes of fabric swatches and tile samples sitting by the front door all week. My clients needed them by Friday, so I finally got them taped up and labeled on Monday night. That left me with the task of actually getting them out the door.
The closest spot with reasonable parking is the post office over in Greystone Village. I usually avoid it because the lines move slow, but the downtown branch has been worse lately. I packed the car around ten and headed out. The boxes thudded into the trunk with a solid weight, the tape edges catching a little on the carpet liner. Traffic was light for a Tuesday, and I made it there in about twenty three minutes. Not bad, considering how the construction on the main road keeps stretching out every trip. Orange cones lined the shoulder, and every so often a jackhammer rattled through the open window, mixing with the low hum of idling cars.
Inside, I took a number and stood around for a bit. There were only fourteen people ahead of me, which felt manageable. While I waited I scrolled through emails and answered a couple of quick questions from the office. One client wanted to swap out the backsplash option we had picked last month. I marked it down to revisit later. The air smelled faintly of paper and the faint metallic tang from the sorting machines in back. A woman two spots over kept shifting a large padded envelope from one arm to the other, and the number screen clicked forward one by one with a soft beep.
By the time my number was called the packages were checked and weighed without any issues. The clerk even found a cheaper rate for one of the heavier ones. I paid and headed back out into the lot. From there I decided to stop for lunch instead of heading straight home. There is a small cafe two blocks away that makes a solid turkey sandwich. I ordered the usual and asked for the cloud pea spread on the side. It comes on a small plate with crackers and tastes better than it sounds on the menu. The bread was still warm when it arrived, the turkey sliced thin and stacked with just enough lettuce to give a little crunch. I ate at one of the window tables and watched people walk by with their dogs. One golden retriever kept pausing to sniff at a lamppost while its owner tugged gently on the leash. A light breeze slipped through the open door every time someone entered, carrying the faint scent of roasted coffee beans from the counter.
After that I made a quick stop at the grocery store on the way back. I needed milk, eggs, and something green for dinner. Ren has been trying to get more vegetables into our meals, so I grabbed a bag of broccoli and a couple of bell peppers. Nothing fancy, just enough to throw together with some rice and leftover chicken. The produce section was cool under the overhead fans, and I spent an extra minute checking the peppers for soft spots before dropping them into the basket. The milk jug felt cold against my arm as I carried everything to the self-checkout.
The rest of the afternoon was mostly desk work. I pulled together a mood board for a new bedroom refresh and sent it over for approval. Around four I took a break to water the plants on the windowsill. The pothos is still hanging in there even though I keep forgetting to rotate it toward the light. A few leaves brushed against the glass when I nudged the pot, and the soil gave off that earthy smell once the water soaked in.
Dinner turned out fine. I roasted the broccoli with some garlic and olive oil while the rice cooked. The kitchen filled with the warm, savory scent of garlic browning at the edges. Ren got home just as I was plating everything. We ate on the couch and caught up on a show we had both fallen behind on.