Today's interactions

When people ask me whether or not I've ever been married or in a committed relationship, I give a standard answer, when it's appropriate.
"I've always been single," I say. "By choice." 
I wait a beat.
Then I say, "Not my choice, of course. Theirs."
I say this without bitterness, though there is some. I would have loved to have come home to a dwelling with someone already in it who's gotten the mail, lit the lights, put on some music, started a meal. As much, perhaps more, even, I would have loved to have been that person who did those things, ready to greet someone I love with a smile, a hug, a kiss, as they shed a heavy coat and enter warm rooms.
It never happened, though, and now, with my likely terminal illness, I've downgraded my online dating profile to say "friends only, preferably just online." That gets very few hits, of course, and that's how I want it. Yes, a chunk of me wants attention and sympathy, but a better chunk of me doesn't want to inflict my woes on others.
I'm getting more out of the little interactions we all have every day with others with cashiers, librarians, restaurant employees, that kind of thing. I'm normally polite and friendly and I get genuinely surprised when I see customers ahead of me in lines merely grunt or less when dealing with store workers. I know, though, having been on that side of the counter myself for several years, that those store people are working, so I keep my interactions brief. When I was a cashier, I understood that some of my customers had no one to talk to when they went home, so I allowed myself to be their captive audience, within reason. But I don't want to be them.
Today I went to two places while running errands. 

I just realized that this dog will be alive when I am not.

The first was a pet supply place. Tomorrow, I'll pick up my sister-in-law's Corgi to take home for five days while my sister-in-law visits her daughter and I was looking for a hair trap to put in the drain. The dog is clean and a delight, but I like to give her a bath when she arrives. She enjoys the baths too, racing around the house after them, twisting on her back. The store didn't have a hair trap, a young woman explained, but as I was leaving I saw bathing areas designed for dogs. For $10, you can use them and bathe your dog in an ideal bath, without having to get on your knees to do it (in my case, that would be "knee," by the way; see prior entries). They give you shampoo, an apron, and towels. I'm looking forward to using it tomorrow

Estelle Harris

My second interaction of the day was at the Trader Joe's two doors down from the pet supply place. The man ringing me up commented on one of my purchases.
"Having paella tonight?" he asked, on seeing the frozen package.
"Well, maybe not tonight," I said. "But soon." 
The man was much younger than I am, in his late twenties, I'd guess. Would he understand what I said next?
"Really, I just bought it because of 'Seinfeld.'"
He laughed, getting the reference. 
I said, pitching my voice higher, "What am I gonna do with all this paella?"