Since I just heard that World War III began, I went out this evening to coddle an overpriced frappachino from my local coffee shop before gas prices make that improbable in the future. I had an hour to myself, and this is how I spent it.

The reason I like this local coffee shop is for all the things it’s not. There are no lines, no long menu choices, and no unfamiliar faces. The kid who served me tonight was the same kid who was there a few weeks ago. I like that. (I also like how I can call him a “kid” now even though he’s probably about 20.) It’s the sort of place you’d find in the imaginary town that I imagine too much about. The kind with a Main Street. Except for the free Wi-fi, this local shop could almost find itself staged in an Anne of Green Gables narration.

The conversation there is good, even though I’m not one for excessive small talk. The habit of “cutting to the chase” of a matter might be due to the fact that my (uninterrupted) time is so limited, but I’m learning that one earns the right to ask questions that are more difficult precisely because one has entertained the mundane.

But small talk just for the sake of itself is good too. It’s one of the simple pleasures in life. Overpriced coffee is another one.