reprieve.

Finally! Mother's Day week is over. Man, that was a blur. i came out of it completely (mentally and physically) exhausted, and sick to death of flowers, for once. Although i must say that it gladdens my heart to see how many people–young men, especially!–come out of the woodwork to drop some cash for Mom, without blinking an eye. Because we all know they're worth it. :)
And it made the endless toil seem worthwhile, as opposed to, say, Valentine's Day. Ugh, there's a floral holiday i could do without. Usually you get about one customer with a really sweet or interesting story, and who doesn't want the standard dozen roses. As much as i hate this expression (which is Nat's fault, by the way), can't we all just think outside the box a little more, people?

In any case. As i was counting the drawer on Sunday night, my co-worker was doing the last little bits of tidying up before we went home for sleep, glorious sleep. Then suddenly, there was a large, bloody-faced man. He was holding his shirt in one enormous hand and seemed to be missing his shoes, but thankfully still had on his cargo shorts. Blood had exploded from his nose (and other wounds on his face) and streamed down his face and bare chest, a few drops landing on his beer gut. It was still bright red and wet, so all i could think was that he'd recently been in a very bad (bar?) fight. He was drunkenly asking us how much farther it was to Mission Blvd. When April explained that he was going the wrong way, he seemed at the end of his rope and began to trudge off. i was busy trying to cover up the fat stacks of cash i was counting, because, well– you never know. And i hate that we have to count the cash like that, out there in the open, but thankfully it was a holiday and i had someone else there with me.

April asked if he needed a paper towel, so he stumbled back over. She ran some water over it and handed it over. He wiped the stiff (even when wet), rough brown paper over his face as we averted our eyes. Swaying, he tried to toss it in the garbage can but missed. It hit the ground with a wet smack. He rudely asked for another piece, and April told him to pick up the other one first. She walked over in my direction because the sight of him was a bit too much. He proceeded to walk right on up to our sink and begin washing himself off, spitting and hawking bloody loogeys onto the brushed stainless steel surface and using mile after mile of paper towels. Fairly delightful.

"You know, there's a bathroom right inside [the grocery store]..." April offered.
"Don't worry about it, dude." Oh, really, guy? You're gonna be an asshole, now?

Soon after, he began to sob and sob, presumably because "Forever Young" by Alphaville was blasting from my iPod. April was thoughtful enough to turn it off, because i couldn't hear him crying but remember thinking how strangely bittersweet and out-of-place the song was for the scene. i figured later that he was probably crying because his life sucks. Here he is, on a Sunday night, broken and bleeding and wandering down the road. Poor dude. April bleached everything he touched and we tried to wash away the bloodstains on the sidewalks. ::shudder::

So yeah! That was the cap to our crazy week... hooray. Hopefully work today will involve nothing more exciting than that.