A Gentleman
Jun. 2nd, 2003 02:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rowynI woke at 5:30 this morning, to the sound of Lut closing the windows in the bedroom. Outside, it was gray, cold, and pouring down rain -- a stark change from the too-warm weather on Friday, or the pleasant afternoon we spent at Antioch Park on Saturday. After a pleasant half-hour in Lut's arms, I finally crawled out of bed and got ready for work, with a sense of dread and foreboding. Another grind through the monthly reports, this time with some new ones, this week. It shouldn't be so bad. Intellectually, I know it's not that big a deal, but emotionally, I hate this I-don't-know-exactly-what-I'm-doing feeling.
I spent too long reading comics and my friends list, and left the apartment a couple of minutes later than I usually do. I didn't even give Lut my usual good-bye hug. No wonder I'm irritable today. I always make a point of hugging Lut before I leave the apartment, even if he's asleep and doesn't notice. Almost always, anyway -- since I didn't today. Pout.
I put on my trenchcoat before leaving, and reminded myself a half-dozen times that I wanted to bring my umbrella. Naturally, I forgot it.
When the elevator arrived, I held it a minute for a man I could hear coming down the hall, thinking, This is making me even later -- I'll miss the bus. He rounded the corner carrying a big red and white umbrella, which is when I realized I'd forgotten mine. Well, maybe the rain will have stopped.
A few floors down, a young woman wearing a short T-shirt that gaps above a hip-hugging white skirt that might've been sixteen inches long. Standing in my black trenchcoat, I find myself wondering if she even looked out the window before getting dressed this morning.
The elevator opens on the first floor, and I am greeted by the vista through the glass outer door of the lobby: more gray, pouring rain. I hesitate in the middle of the lobby, thinking,Maybe I don't want to catch my usual bus this badly. It's about a third of a mile to the bus stop, and there's no kind of shelter anywhere near it. The next bus -- If I've already missed the regular one -- isn't for another twenty minutes.
The man with the red and white umbrella says, "Excuse me -- you have quite a ways to walk, don't you?"
I look back at him, nodding, and he proffers his umbrella to me. "Here. I've got a dozen of these. Just take it."
I gaze at the umbrella, blinking. I should say, "I have one in my apartment, I'll just go get it." I should say, "No, I'm OK, really -- it's my own fault, I have an umbrella, I just forgot it."
But instead I say, "Thank you," and smile at him as I take his umbrella, before heading out into the deluge.
And maybe that's what I'm supposed to do, anyway.
I spent too long reading comics and my friends list, and left the apartment a couple of minutes later than I usually do. I didn't even give Lut my usual good-bye hug. No wonder I'm irritable today. I always make a point of hugging Lut before I leave the apartment, even if he's asleep and doesn't notice. Almost always, anyway -- since I didn't today. Pout.
I put on my trenchcoat before leaving, and reminded myself a half-dozen times that I wanted to bring my umbrella. Naturally, I forgot it.
When the elevator arrived, I held it a minute for a man I could hear coming down the hall, thinking, This is making me even later -- I'll miss the bus. He rounded the corner carrying a big red and white umbrella, which is when I realized I'd forgotten mine. Well, maybe the rain will have stopped.
A few floors down, a young woman wearing a short T-shirt that gaps above a hip-hugging white skirt that might've been sixteen inches long. Standing in my black trenchcoat, I find myself wondering if she even looked out the window before getting dressed this morning.
The elevator opens on the first floor, and I am greeted by the vista through the glass outer door of the lobby: more gray, pouring rain. I hesitate in the middle of the lobby, thinking,Maybe I don't want to catch my usual bus this badly. It's about a third of a mile to the bus stop, and there's no kind of shelter anywhere near it. The next bus -- If I've already missed the regular one -- isn't for another twenty minutes.
The man with the red and white umbrella says, "Excuse me -- you have quite a ways to walk, don't you?"
I look back at him, nodding, and he proffers his umbrella to me. "Here. I've got a dozen of these. Just take it."
I gaze at the umbrella, blinking. I should say, "I have one in my apartment, I'll just go get it." I should say, "No, I'm OK, really -- it's my own fault, I have an umbrella, I just forgot it."
But instead I say, "Thank you," and smile at him as I take his umbrella, before heading out into the deluge.
And maybe that's what I'm supposed to do, anyway.
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Date: 2003-06-02 06:25 pm (UTC)That's one of the delicate little details of being brought up in polite society: do I accept a kindness? I suppose I might worry that someone is offering me help out of a sense of duty, that he doesn't really want to go to that much trouble ... but then, what does that say about how much trust I'm putting in the other person? I know that my knee-jerk reaction would be to refuse; my reflex would be to think that accepting it is a bad thing.
But when you say it like this ... I can't help but think that I've probably got it all wrong. If I were to go out of my way to try to help someone else, I think I'd want my offer to be accepted, not "politely" rebuffed.
Anyway, very thought-provoking. Thanks for the snapshot. =)
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