Cafe Diem?

This morning, as is my wont, I ventured out early to satisfy my caffeine addiction. Said addiction is quite mild, and I toyed with forsaking it altogether as a new years resolution, but then decided that caffeine is preferable to pseudoephedrine. And much easier to access. Besides, I quite enjoy the ritual of coffee. 

So I ordered, as usual, a soy latte. The girl behind the counter wrote my order down. She then stared blankly at me. I waited, the correct change ready, but hesitated to hand it to her. She narrowed her eyes, as though trying to remember something and then asked "sugar?". No, I shook my head. She nodded. She then looked intently through me. I went to hand the change to her but she turned her back towards the register. She stood there for a moment. She then turned back to me, her forehead scrunched. "I'm sorry" she said, "I've just had a complete mental blank". I held the money to her once again and automatically she reached out to take it. Glancing at the amount she sighed, as though the coins themselves, rather than the figure they represented for which she had been searching, had brought relief. 

I turned to wait. As I did I caught site of someone I knew. Or someone I knew I should know. One of my friends girlfriends friends? Someones colleague? Certainly someone with whom I am acquainted. And someone who was immaculately groomed. To my horror, I realise not only that I am having a mental blank similar to the girl at the counter, but that I am not, by any standard, groomed. I am suddenly horribly aware that I'm still wearing the singlet that I slept in and have tossed on a pair of shorts in which I baked scones, that are subsequently covered in flour. And while my hair could perhaps technically be labelled 'bedhead', it certainly was not the mussily sexy mane that is usually described thus. 

I smiled at her. She smiled back and then, thankfully, before words could be exchanged and my ignorance revealed her coffee came and she was out the door. And I realised I need not dwell further on my appearance, and the reality that she, with her straightened and braided hair, and freshly laundered clothes, was clearly indicating to the world that she would have a far more productive day than I. And that perhaps she couldn't remember my name either.