And who says D.C. is an impersonal city?
I stopped in a store today and the cashier, who had pretty much ignored me till I paid for my order, suddenly got chatty. Asked all kinds of irrelevant questions; swore she recognized me from somewhere. Then I noticed she wasn’t looking at me, but at the insides of my arms, which are bruised from the wrists on up. I think she thought I was an abused wife or something but, no, just got attacked by killer boxes. The delirium is simply a byproduct of cardboard fumes — and empty boxes, at that. One day I might fill them. Or not. Whichever. 😉
In any event, it’s an interesting commentary on our culture that people either don’t notice those who might be in terrible situations, or else they can only do so much to help them. I’m otherwise as happy as can be (even if I look like I was thrown down a few flights of stairs by someone stronger than me!), but it gave me pause that maybe I should pay more attention to my surroundings and see if anyone around me is reaching out for help but is too tired or scared to hold out their arms.