At the coffee house

Hubs needed me to drive him to the office this morning. Driving back home, with traffic, would take me forever, so the plan was that I would work at the local coffee shop for a few hours. If you buy a latte, you get free drip refills. With their free wi-fi, it's a deal hard to beat.

I found a nice empty nook with leather armchairs and a fireplace on. Cozy. The perfect arrangement to enjoy my tall, nonfat, sugar free caramel latte. There is no other way to enjoy a grey Monday morning.

Awhile into my time, a man came and sat in an armchair near me. I don't mind sharing my perfect spot - no problem. Awhile later, two other people happened to come in that new him...they were surprised and happy to see each other. They sat down and conversation commenced. No problem. I'm all for coffee house friendships and coffee house conversation. It's beautiful. To a point. Like all beautiful things, too much of a good thing, is not a good thing.

These people are cracking me up. THEY are cracked up.

One of them recently had his unlocked car broken into; his leather coat, cell phone, and wallet were all stolen. They have spent the last hour philosophizing (is that a word?) this violation. It's a prime-time comedy sketch, and they are completely and totally serious. Added to the comedy is the fact that they are a bit white-trashy (except one of them isn't white) looking. I'm in a bit of an upscale area, and they don't fit in quite right. And yet they sit, trying to determine how they feel about this incident.

They believe in the law of attraction: This guy was too trusting, and was putting too much value in his processions. He needed to share them and was attracting this. The other person was attracting an open opportunity. They were meant to collide. He was a co-creator in this situation. If you think of it as a donation to someone who needed his things more, it feels better inside. Way better. Even better, if you think of it as sharing... that he was so well off that he was offering to share his things with someone else. Whoa... that feels even better. Maybe his things were discovered, not stolen. Just like America, right?

Garbage. Just garbage. I finally put on my MP3 player and am hoping that Paul Simon can drown them out.

What I would like to know is...

What on earth did I do to attract these loonies to me, in my lovely coffee house nook? And may I never do that again!