Luck of the Baseball

Sometimes when you’re shopping, nothing really jumps out at you. Other times, pretty much everything does, so much so that you need to call on a friend with a trucking company to come and help you haul it home. Today, I was in a rather frustrating store that was not only overcrowded with people — the aisles have never been wide enough for two carts passing in the night — but the shelves were so full that merchandise was falling off. At one point, while I was looking through stuff, my actions caused a whole avalanche to fall on the head of a stray 4-year-old who happened to be standing nearby. Fortunately, it was yarn, so no damage to either the child or the goods.

So there I was, making the decision on whether to fight my way through the next aisle or give it all up when THIS beckoned.

I grabbed it and went straight to the checkout. It was meant to be. And I was meant to leave with my loot.

Shopping is the thirstiest affair ever. I mean what is it about strolling the confines of any place of commerce that makes me stagger to the nearest bubbler and start slurping. Even when I think ahead and carry water, I drink the whole thing and STILL need a beer when I’m finished shopping. (Sometimes not even when I’m finished. If they served cold brew at Goodwill, I’d be first in line.)

I’ve become accustomed to being the only single 60-something woman in any tavern at half-past afternoon, so was surprised today when I marched into a new establishment and the only person at the bar was an around-my-age woman imbibing in a cold one. Being my subtle self, I asked if she was sitting at a bar in the middle of the afternoon ALONE!!?? to which she promptly replied that indeed she was. Also, she had rainbow colored hair. I am encouraged.

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