Nosey Question

Have you ever gotten a feeling like the fates came around with a silver platter of toast points covered with warm brie, and you were too tired or distracted or some stupid thing to accept one?

While exiting Macy's the other evening, I had two strips of paper that you spray perfume on, one in each hand. The perfumes were Issey Miyake and Dolce & Gabbana Blue something. I was sniffing each strip alternately as I walked out of the store, in my own little universe. Out of the blue, a 20-something kid wearing one of those hooded sweatshirts that northern California surfers favor - the ones that looks like they were made from a nubby blanket - looked up from his iThingie long enough to offer, "Do you need a second opinion on that?" pause, smile a little, and keep on walking.

You see my allegory here. Or metaphor - whichever. The offer to help was the brie-covered toast point. I'm still not positive what prevented me from saying, "Sure, what's your vote?" Surprise, yes, but throw in preoccupation and some long day lag, and boom, you're wondering where your hors d'oeuvre went.