Tonight I took my daughter to her first girl scout meeting of the season. She’s now a Brownie and wore a brown vest with colorful badges and pins she earned last year.

Hand in hand we walk up the carpeted stairs to room 206.  “Be good sweetie, listen to what your scout leaders say,” I caution. The two women – a mother-daughter combo who take girl scouts very seriously – smile and nod. “Howwas your summer?” the younger one murmurs while dolling out construction paper and crayons. She has a coin shaped scar on her forehead that almost looks like a dent. “See you in an hour.”

I drive to the local food pantry to drop off my spice collection. They don’t even pauses to ponder the dusty unopened bags of turmeric, coriander and cardamom pods. Food is food after all.

Next on the list, dropping off clothes and bags of stuff at Savers. “Sorry we don’t take old TVs,” the guy at the donation door informs me. “Maybe Best Buy.”

I spend the next 10 minutes stuck in traffic not listening to public radio. “Trump, trump, trump, … blah blah blah.” Another day, another outrage. I’ve learned to mostly tune it out.

The phone rings. It’s Brendan. He’s stuck in traffic too. “Hey, do you know if Fi will be around this weekend, cause I got Marlo and I have to work and my cunt ex screwed me for next weekend at the island!” The way he says “cunt” sounds like an animal growling. He continues, “I need you to take pictures of Amy’s bed. She wants to sell it on Craigslist and get a king.” Amy and he have been co-habitating for the last three months. He’s recently started talking marriage.

I stop at Starbucks. The young guy behind the counter has a whisper of a mustache, retro glasses and shock of jet black hair. “Can I add the money from this gift card to my Starbucks card.” He looks at the two cards in my hand. A pause. I reword my request and he slowly decides what I’ve asked for is “not possible.” A manager intervenes. “You have to do it like this …” he says punching keys swiftly. Thanks.

It’s 7:15 p.m. Two, maybe three more stops.

I get $40 at the ATM. My company is taking donations to help co-workers struggling over at the St. Thomas facility. Terry our newish HR person told me “they have to walk an hour just to find a working outlet to recharge their mobile devices!” Electronic deprivations aside, they seem to have food and plenty of water though. Phew.

Back in the car, and off to the library to return all the library books I read to Q over the last week or so. It’s 7:25, almost time to pick her up.

All the scout meetings take place at a big mansion now owned by the town. I stand outside. It’s the first cold day of the season. One of the mom’s and I make small talk. She’s dressed in fleece and a down vest, I’m still in business casual.

The girls eventually file out the door and onto the broad porch under the supervision of their scout leaders. Someone in the group hollers “Tag!!” and they all scatter into the darkness shrieking and chasing each other. The parents all smile knowing smiles. It’s cold out … and I’m tired.

“Daddy, do you have something to drink?” the Brownie asks me. The car smells like the leftovers bagged up in the very back next to my old TV. No drinks though.

One more stop I think. Best Buy is so bright it makes us squint in the darkness. Q runs off to examine the electronics. “Do you accept old TVs?” I ask the woman at the service desk. They do, but they charge $25. A small price to pay. I wheel a metal cart back into the parking lot and lower the heavy plastic box onto it. It has to weight 60 pounds at least.

I think I bought it around 1997 or so. It’s twenty years old and still works, but it’s so, so heavy. When I bought it, I wanted a big TV and it seemed big and cost big – $350 felt like a lot of money back then. But I don’t watch TV anymore. And … its taken my years to admit this, but I just don’t want it anymore. And I can’t seem to give it away.

I wheel the cart back inside the brightly lit space. “Where should I put it?” I ask. A man in a yellow shirt motions me to park the cart against the wall next to another with a collection of sad, dusty DVD players. Once upon a time, someone love all these devices – used them. Now they sit in a pile waiting … I’ve paid my price and I leave that old TV at Best Buy and walk away.

I collect my daughter in the home theater section. She watching a sci-fi flick on a giant screen, speakers booming.  “Daddy, this movies scares me.” I pick her up. She’s also getting big. We walk out of the store and bright lights. It’s dark and cold. I can see a few stars in the sky.

“What day is it?” she asks as I deposit her into the backseat. “Thursday … October 12 … I know someone who’s having a birthday today.”

This piques her curiosity. “Who?”

“A friend.”

“Do I know him?”

“Not a he, a she, and … yes, you’ve met her.”

“Oh yeah, whats her name?”

“Is that all you want to know?”

“Is she nice?”  And this is one reason I love my daughter – she judges a person on their character.  According to Q, is a person nice is the probably the most important thing you can learn about someone.  It’s all that matters, really.

I answer honestly.  “Yes … and no … but mostly yes …. most of the time, I suppose.”

“Daddy, I’m tired.”  It’s late and I’m feeling cold for the first time in a long time.

And I wonder, how many candles were on your cake and was it delicious?

And … were you happy?