Life is full of opportunities.

Today, a young man in his mid 20s, tall, and full of energy, tried to hand me a paper at the mall. He was obviously trying to encourage subscriptions to the local paper, and I know I want none of that. I smiled politely in that cynical way that doesn't reach your eyes and yet manages to somehow look sincere, and said, "No, thank you."

He waved a paper at me. "No?" he managed to make incredulous. "But it's free!"

As if Free was the ultimate answer to why I would want the paper. Doesn't everyone want Free? Look, lady, he wanted to say, I'm giving this to you. No strings. No obligations. You don't have to be polite to me. I'm being paid to pass these out! Take one! I can't believe anyone can turn down Free!

I just shook my head and walked on.

It was the politest I could manage.

I did not want to attack him in any way. It's not his fault that I was bra-shopping, something that tends to make me want to strangle kittens. Nothing fits, nothing doesn't itch, nothing doesn't poke or is possible to close or even look remotely flattering, and only 4 styles come in my size and only comes without a wire which I refuse to wear. After going to three stores and trying on several varieties that almost fit, almost don't itch, almost don't hurt I'm willing to purchase anything that comes close just so I can get the hell out of the lengerie department. If I *ever* find a bra pattern or learn to draft a bra pattern that I can consistently use that fits properly without pain, I'll never shop for bras again. Ever. My mother could come up to me while I am bra shopping and tell me how beautiful she's always thought I was, and I'd still want to shove a bra hanger where the sun don't shine. I am just not in the mood to be polite to anyone in such a state.

That paper is not free. It cost trees for the paper, and heaven only knows what chemicals for the ink. Manpower, electricity and more to collect and write stories and ads. Sure, it won't cost me personally, but it will be paid for. There is a good quote- "Pay now or pay later, with your own substance or with someone else's, but you will pay. And you may not be able to afford the price." Nothing, but nothing comes for free, even my ability to post here, or yours to read it.

I also was not going to get into it with the young man that the editor of that paper is the same jerk that fired me several years ago at a different paper because I could no longer breathe in the building and therefore could not work, and I didn't read the paper much before, during or after working for that paper, so why on earth would I bother with it now?

I have two good memory associations with reading the paper. One is as a child, spreading the entire paper on the floor and reading the funnies laying down in the middle of it. I can't remember *not* reading the comics every day up until I left for college. Then I could not get a paper, and I didn't care any more.

The other good memory is Sunday mornings, going out for breakfast with my sweetie and sharing the paper between us as we eat. That's a good memory and I like doing that still.

Taking a paper from the young man now, right around lunchtime, it is conceivable that I would sit down and read it with a coffee or meal. But there would be no one to share it with, and that kind of takes the joy out of it.

But I was out there on a mission, and I had to make sure nobody got hurt. I'm sorry young man, but I would not take that thing if you dipped it in chocolate.  ¶ 1:04 PM