Yesterday Dad took me out for breakfast. When we came in we saw a lady there who said hello to us and she looked really familiar. I wanted to ask Dad who she was, but it’s a small place and it was really quiet in there; she was sitting at the table right next to us. I grabbed a pen and scribbled on the paper placemat, “Who is she? Looks familiar.”
I passed the pen to Dad and he jotted down the answer. I still didn’t know who it was and I scribbled out our writings. We ate our breakfast without further incident and went on our way.
This morning we got together for breakfast again at the same place and grabbed the same table. We sat down, I looked at the table, and you guessed it: exact same placemat, as evidenced by our notations from yesterday.
I’m still not sure how to feel about this. The placemat wasn’t dirty or anything but at the same time…it was the same placemat. It made me wonder what else they might be recycling.