Crying in the grocery store

Yesterday I was in the grocery store, buying spinach and some things I wanted that my mother would never buy. Have my parents always eaten so badly? I hadn't had a green vegetable or any remotely fresh plant product since I ate an apple on the trip up.

Anyway, that stupid Arlo Guthrie (I think?) song, "The City of New Orleans," came on the sound system and I was immediately a weeping wreck. It made me think of the first time I came to New Orleans, on the train from Memphis with my (now ex-) husband. I loved it immediately. I couldn't believe how beautiful it was. I remember walking in the lower garden district and a lady on the street smiled at me and said, "Welcome home, sweetie."

I'm not the only one losing it over little things. Miss S said she asked her grandfather if he had any mustard and he handed her a squeeze bottle of yellow mustard and she started to cry. Everyone in New Orleans knows that isn't mustard.

Miss K, my landlady and car donor, is still MIA.