It's cryin' time again, as the old song goes. The filling station will more than likely be known as the dripping station if the price of gas increases much more. With that in mind, I'll share a laugh or two- get your mind off the serious and onto the absurd. Wait...no, we've had enough as that as well...hmmmmm. How about onto the medicine of laughter?!
The Fish and I (don't have much time this morning so, we'll go with shortened names to protect the hurried...)
went to town yesterday. He needed bird house makings and I needed to shop for a birthday present. I suggested the man take me to lunch. Appalled he was- Sunday is the big day for the big meal...WITH dessert. Never mind him- Chinese food seemed about right so we headed that a way. One look at the parking lot and he said "they're packed, let's not go there." I readjusted his chronic-crowd-phobia-attitude and pointed to a much available parking space. This did not sit well with Big.
The man slammed some food on a plate from the available smorgasbord while I dithered here and dallied there, as I was fixing to find our seat I noticed a seemingly confused white headed stranger to my right. I smiled at her, she sweetly smiled back. "I do not know where I am supposed to be..." she said just as natural as if I were the tour guide for a cruise ship. I surmised that miss sunshine probably got out as about as often as I did and got lost dallying and dithering too. "Did you come with someone?" "Yes", she said- "my husband." "Oh, OK...what does he look like?" She was so sweet, even when she looked as though she might flick my head with her fork. "He's a man."
I've been around seniors enough to know when Sometimers or Alzheimers has a person in it's sights. I looked around the restaurant, hoping that I might help and not cause her any alarm or embarrassment. I spied a single gentleman, 80ish..."Oh look, is that him?!" She looked the way of my finger pointing and again met my gaze with the fork flicking attitude of a woman who was getting mighty tired of someone as dull and ignorant as me.
She let out a long sigh and proclaimed loudly for all the sweet and sour crowd to hear-
"No, my husband has hair!"
Surely there's a special place in heaven for people like me who only try to shield others from adversity in buffet lines. My face turned red, a soon to be hot flash took notice and flared right then. All eyes were on me while the white haired angel glared and thrust her fork in the air ready to jab when suddenly out of the corner of my eye in booth 22, I saw an old hairy man.
"Look! Is that him? He has hair and a beard and looks to be your age and...."
"Well, thank you honey."
And just like that, she walked away, leaving me with a plate half full at a buffet. Such is life...
(Need another laugh this morning since you're probably catching on to the fact that everything other than locally produced items now too have mighty hard to swallow fuel surcharges attached to the price? Well then go here, giggle a little and
snort through your tears...)