G and I had a work call one morning about the blog. I was feeling less than inspired as I had taken Benadryl the night before and found myself in quite the fog. We discussed some potential ideas, but all could think about was climbing out of the drug-induced coma I was in. It didn’t help that the science fiction thriller that I had watched on Netflix the night before was still racing through my head. It’s fair to say I was having trouble deciphering fact from fiction.
After our call I went to the grocery store promptly leaving the blog behind. In reality though, we never really leave the blog behind because true inspiration and let’s face it, life, happen when we are away from our laptops.
The grocery story is a smorgasbord of stories if you are watching closely or those stories might just tap you on the shoulder if you are lucky and, you know,…I am lucky! I was unloading my groceries and promptly putting them back in the cart when the the cashier informed me that my potatoes didn’t have a code on them. She was going to go find the appropriate code. I knew how much they were, but it didn’t matter. She needed the code. As she walked away in search of the magic numbers I turned to the man behind me to apologize for the inconvenience. He kindly offered to let me “share” his potatoes.
Hmmmm. Perhaps he said scan? Either way I was sorry that he had to wait. Then he told me he didn’t mind waiting because he was “enjoying the beautiful view.” He topped it off with a wink.
At this point I did a double take of Tony Soprano and his salt and pepper, parted-down-the-middle hair cut from 1975 and his sweater and gold chain placed neatly outside for all to admire. All the usual thoughts went through my head: He’s in the mafia, he’s going to stuff me into a van with no windows when we get to the parking lot and take me to his mafia boss, he wants to abduct me and take me home to be one of his sister wives, he wants to make potato soup with me or he is just a harmless dude stuck in the 1970s who thinks he is a real charmer. Regardless, I wasn’t taking any chances. I smiled and thanked him for his creepy compliment because, I mean, what “normal” person says that?
I paid for my groceries, purposely didn’t look back at Mr. Soprano, and I made a beeline for the exit. Once outside I did a quick look over my shoulder and walked briskly to my car. I threw my bags in the car and prayed my eggs would make it home safely. I drove home, making sure to take a different route, just in case, and so far I haven’t seen any sign of the mob boss. You can’t be too careful these days.
I’ve learned you don’t mix Benadryl and Netflix, of course! Oh, and keep your gold chains inside your sweater, boys!
Sunshine & Sarcasm,
Lowi & G