The charismatic and funny woman who runs the training program I was at today (and will be at tomorrow and Thursday) released us two and a half hours early, so I toddled smugly home and went to get some groceries.
"What are these?" the cashier asked me as she picked up the cloudy plastic bag containing four vaguely round doughy things and appraised it quizzically.
"They're bagels," I said.
Silence.
"Fifty-nine cents a piece," I added.
She scanned them through.
Apparently, bagels are something of an exotic item in these parts.
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