Groundhog Thursday

Another week, another Thursday, another visit to her beloved sanctuary. But yet again, a girl’s rigid routine was met with an unwelcome obstacle — a déjà-vu to be precise. It was him. The very same culprit that had thwarted her plans on their previous encounter. A gentleman who had now earned the title of being her arch enemy, for a second time in a row taking hostage of what she desired most.

Was he some kind of Bond villain seeking to make my life a misery? Juliet wondered. And how was he attracting such a bevy of attractive young ladies? Is he some kind of celebrity? Perhaps a movie star — or even a director? That would explain his appreciation for the moving picture…

To his credit, his incidental movie recommendation happened to be right up Juliet’s alley. Not the masterpiece he talked it up to be, but nonetheless one of the better flicks she had watched this year. Speaking of fiction, the way his date was unfolding could have effortlessly made its way onto the pages of a screenplay. A chain of events culminating in what felt like the expository scene in the first act of your run-of-the-mill summer rom-com. Him, again being caught up in one of his monologues. His date, or dare she say, his passive bystander, already scheming up plans to politely bullshit her way out of the situation, followed by her answering a supposed phone call from her sister-in-law, who needed a last-minute stand-in for the babysitter. And before he could even say a thing, she was already one foot out the door, bidding farewell while throwing a barrage of empty phrases and promises his way.

Juliet admired the girl’s no-nonsense attitude. An individual with the guts to simply do as she pleased, serving no one but herself, without stressing over other peoples opinions of her. Though she could at least have finished her piece of carrot cake. We certainly don’t want to fall in disgrace with the sugar gods now, do we?

Fortunately, Mr. Blofeld over here seemed to share her habit of being an emotional eater. Nothing like feasting on someone else’s leftover dessert. One of those rare opportunities to enjoy a delicious treat without the accompanying feeling of regret. In a way, it’s like doing a service to Mother Nature, saving its yield from ending up in the depths of a landfill.