We've been meeting Becky and Jack, Teresa's sister and husband once a week for breakfast in Roseau for the past several years. For various reasons, we ended up going to Nelson's Cafe on Main Street. It's a clangorous, steamy place but you get used to it. You recognize some of the other customers and a jolly camaraderie ensues.
Once we quit working we could meet a little later, at 8:30. Larry Rose, the owner with his wife Donna, makes great cinnamon rolls. He gets an incredible number of swirls in each roll. We rolled one out once in a single strip and it reached almost to the movie theater.
When the pandemic hit in March last year all the restaurants in the state had to close. We continued our Thursday breakfast tradition by taking turns making treats and having cofffee at Becky's shop, the Bead Gypsy, across the street from Nelson's. I even tried cinnamon rolls. They weren't as good as Larry's but they got eaten.
When the restaurants were allowed to open with restrictions, many of the businesses on Main Street, including Nelson's, were lackadaisical about wearing masks. They were merely reflecting the attitude of their customers. We didn't feel comfortable there so we ordered rolls from Nelson's and continued to have our coffee in Becky's coffee room in her shop.
Spending time at Becky's shop has been good for my own lackadasicality. I lack situational awareness. And to get from the coffee room to the bathroom requires good situational awareness. As I passed through the shop I would invariably walk into the vault. The Bead Gypsy is located in the old Citizens State Bank building. Becky uses the vault for storage. The massive vault door is never closed and the combination has been lost.
It takes a zig and a zag to finally arrive at the tiny bathroom at the end of a long corridor. Turning on the light also turns on the fan which has been warped by urine fumes over the years and is loud enough to be heard over at Nelson's. When I'm ready to leave, I always forget how small the bathroom is and bang the door against the toilet bowl. The bowl acts as an an amplifier and so much for privacy. I've suggested to Becky that she cut a notch out of the door so it doean't bang into the bowl. She just refers me to Duane, the building's owner.
One good thing about the pandemic, at least for me, is that my inner robot has now been trained to zig before entering the vault and later, to stop, look and listen before opening the bathroom door. The fan unfortunately is too high for my robotic arm to disconnect.
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Hang a right! Right now! |
2 comments:
What is it about the Bead Gypsy that compels a male person to make a trip to the bathroomlette? I can't remember a time when I've shopped there that I haven't made the same trip you describe so well.
My sense of the correct route is intuitive. When I reach the door of the water closet, my main issue is not so much the door and toilet proximity as the it is the location of the light switch.
Otherwise, there has been a time or two when the loud fan provided excellent cover.
You're right about the fan providing cover. Between Becky and the bank, that spot was a law office.
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