Live from the Deli

By: Gabriela Yareliz

I am writing from a local bagel shop/deli one block over that is open 24 hrs. Weirdly, I find myself hoping that the 24-hr. promise means the food is excellent. (No correlation). I ordered breakfast for dinner. Breakfast is truly my favorite meal (this is why Jerry Seinfeld and I would bond over breakfast cereals).

It was a hectic week. I got new cases and spent a lot of time staring past the judge into her mountain and river Microsoft Teams background while we waited for my opposing attorney to finally show up. (Me in my ribbed yoga onesie covered by a black blazer, leaving me looking chic and profesh).

Spent a half hour at FedEx behind a man who wasn’t sure if his whole lease printed. The printer was spitting the pages out, and they would float into the air and musically dance into his confused frantic hands.

I started to feel tired and resisted the temptation to ask if I could print out my one page ahead of his going back and forth. I decide to be patient and as Marianne Williamson says, to find out the best way to reflect the love of God to this confused stranger. Part of my weariness is the fact that I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was buying three-dollar books for my Kindle at midnight. I also saw an eyeshadow palette from Anastasia Beverly Hills that details which shades should not be used in the “immediate eye area.” If an eyeshadow can’t be used in the immediate eye area, what exactly is it for?

And here we are, not even at Friday yet, but I am warmed by the satisfaction that comes from a fulfilling job and a job well-done. I am carrying my piping hot breakfast home. Dinner is served.