Having been ill with a respiratory virus all week, I have done only the absolutely necessary tasks. Until today, we had managed with what was in the fridge or picked up quickly on the way home from work. But in spite of my intention of not leaving the house all weekend, I had to vacate my cocoon in order to buy vittles for the natives. Who knew that teenage boys expect the refrigerator to be stocked?
I exited my vehicle and started walking toward the store. I suddenly found myself in step with a gentleman whom had exited his car across from mine in the same parking lane. Our paths converged as we drew close to the driveway running in front of the store front. He muttered something and I looked over to see if I had been spoken to. He didn't make eye contact, shook his head a bit, and kept walking. My first impression of him was that he is a bit of a Bohemian hippie wannabe. He looked a tad too young to be the real thing.
We both needed to retrieve shopping carts; I tried to defer to him and stay out of his zone of operation as we both maneuvered carts from separate lines of them. He stopped, stared at me straight in the face. I smiled and said, "Go ahead." He did, without smiling. A niggly little feeling crept into my consciousness; I shook it off and set off to produce and bread. I crossed close to his path a couple of times through the store aisles; but I quickly moved on wanting to avoid any further direct contact.
I made my way to the checkout line with a favorite cashier and the shortest line to boot. I was feeling as if I had escaped some unknown perverse danger when who should appear at the checkout line next to mine but my Bohemian non-friend. I carefully kept my focus on what was in front of me instead of who was a few feet away beside me. The cashier and her bagging assistant made quick work of my purchases and had me ready to go in short order. I glanced over and saw with relief that I was going to escape the store ahead of HIM.
In spite of my difficulty with walking and breathing at the same time, I made my way to my vehicle and quickly unloaded my six or seven bags. Now I just have to put the shopping cart in the proper place and I'll have escaped that menacing fellow. I look through the window and see the return on the other side of my truck and, "Oh dear, there he is. He's going to see me. This could be life or death."
But I can't NOT return the shopping cart to the proper place!
So I walk around my vehicle pushing that cart while my Bohemian, hippie wannabe non friend pushes on to his own vehicle and begins to unload his purchases. I get into my vehicle, put on my seatbelt, start my truck, and drive off to finish my errands.
You know, my mama always told me I was too much like Nancy Drew, always looking for a mystery. Maybe I should choose another genre of book to be reading for awhile. Maybe that James Patterson mystery thriller got to me more than I thought! But I kept watching in my rear view mirror just to make sure.