If I were any crazier, I might be worried.

Imagine That

It's 5 a.m., time to get up because you have writing to do, before work, but first things first. You walk into your dark bathroom, barefoot, your foot skims across something furry? What.is.that? Walking into the bathroom in the dark is not cool, so you back up to the light switch and flip it on. What would you do when you find yourself face to face with a snake? You might scream, but imagine that you remain calm because you notice it’s the rare breed leopard snake, no more than three feet long, golden with brown spots.

You might be frightened until you notice that its tongue, is missing. Who would do that to a snake?

It's then you know exactly what you need to do. You return Millie's toy to her.

Okay, Imagine This

People are nuts all year long, but Christmas shopping brings out the special nuts, a nut mix, if you will.

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving someone I know shopped at a Wal-mart in a city nearby. She was alone and had parked on the side of the building. When she exited with groceries, she pushed the cart to her car. Next, she did what everyone says to do, e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e.. She set her purse inside the car and also her cell phone. When she ducks back outside the car, she sees her cart is moving away from her. A young man, (and this is important) in baggy jeans, waistband hanging halfway down his butt, is running away with her cart and groceries. A struggle ensues. She grabs the cart. He pulls back. He trips again and again over--his baggy jeans. 

Nearby, an elderly gentleman rolls down the window of his car. "Leave her alone," he says. 

The baggy jeaned bandit finally gives up, lets go and runs away.

Later on FB, the woman states that she felt badly, wondering if the young bandit was hungry.

A few days later, after church, I shop at the same store. Being the Paranoid Polly that I am, I watch every person that comes around me. Whatever happened to respecting personal space? I want that question answered today please.

So imagine this, one young man seems to be following me. He's wearing...wait for it...baggy jeans. His head is shaven, and he's "pretending" to look at his cell phone, but at the same time had no problem following me down two aisles. Once I reach the main aisle, I am angry at him. Sadly for me, it's usually at that time that anger wins over fear (unless I'm being chased by zombies). I stop in the middle of the aisle and wait until he crashes into me! Yes, I did! 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, apparently surprised at our collision.

“That’s okay,” I lie. I guess he really was reading his phone.

He walks around me and hurries down the main aisle, but I followed him. (Yes, this is crazy, too.) A minute later, I see what he's up to. He has joined a young woman who is pushing a baby, in her cart.


A little girl runs up to him. “Daddy, hold me.”

I guess I showed him me. I blame Millie for my ridiculous behavior. She also bites before asking questions.

T.


I'm a little behind on my post because I've struggled with Blogger for three days.