I Lose My Faith In Humanity
OK, so Rom sent me to Walgreen’s to buy a broom. So I did.
It would not be reasonable to expect me to resist a “Magnum Chocolate Infinity” ice cream bar at Thornton’s, so I didn’t. I found a shady place to consume said item at the side of the building, next to the trash can. Then I noticed a more scenic spot under a tree, but I’d already committed myself to a course of action, and there was NO TURNING BACK.
As you might imagine, eating an ice cream novelty in this kind of heat is a hazardous proposition, and I ended up with chocolate all over my hands. I went to wash my hands inside the building (hoping they didn’t try to make me pay for the drink I was carrying a 2nd time), just got around the corner–not even near the door yet–and thought, Oh, forgot my broom. (Sounds like I ride one, doesn’t it?) Went back around the corner, and the broom was already gone. There had been a small silver car and a dark blue SUV parked on the side of the building, and both were gone now, so it could have been either one. Easy to say, “Look! A free broom!,” grab it, and leave out the side drive. So I’m out $14, and had to troop back to Walgreen’s and buy another broom, which I held in a deathlike grip until I got home. I told my sad story to the Walgreen’s clerk, so they wouldn’t wonder why I kept coming in there and buying brooms–dementia, perhaps? She tactfully refrained from mentioning that I had chocolate on my cheek, but I’d mentioned the ice cream bar, so at least she knew why that was–dementia, perhaps?
I am picturing the scene at the thief’s house–“Look! Got us a broom! We never could have afforded one! Now we can sweep the floor at last!” “You did good, honey.” (This is known as Lavish Sarcasm. I will give you a tutorial on it, if you give me $14.) (As I read recently, “Being good at sarcasm is like being good at torture. People notice it, but they don’t admire it.” Food for thought. I guess.)