“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”
--- Douglas Adams

Thursday, April 28, 2011

To Market to Market to Buy Some Dish Soap

Tonight I went to Walgreens.
As I was walking from the parking lot to the front door a woman got out of her car and walked by me on her way inside the store making "brr" noises and confirming how cold it was. It was windy, but I didn't think it was all that cold.  I looked at her. She was wearing tan pleather chaps with fringe with gray stirrup pants. She had a long pony tail that came down to her butt.
There was a man at entrance to the store who was asking for spare change. He was wearing a really really old and worn out suit.
My goal was to leave Walgreens with Drano, Dish soap and Windshield wiper fluid. Seemed like an easy task, right?
I walked down the aisle marked "soap" and "kitchen." I found the shelves with the soap. I found the powdered laundry soap. I found the liquid laundry soap. I found the comet. I found the spray cleaner. I found the dobie scrubbers. I found the scouring pads. I even found the Drano, even though it's not soap. I could not find the dish soap. I asked an employee where the dish soap was. He said, with a straight face, "oh, you can find it in aisle 8 by the potato chips." I asked him why all the soap was kept in the aisle marked "soap" but the dish soap was next to the pringles and he said "Oh, we're remodeling." I found the soap. There were about 10 different brands, none of which I usually buy. As I was staring at my choices the woman in the tan fake leather chaps and gray stirrup pants came up to me and pointed at my foot. "That must have hurt, " she said. She was pointing at the tattoo on the top of my foot. I told her that it didn't hurt as much as one would think and it certainly didn't hurt as much as the tattoo on the inside of my arm. She then started moving her index finger around my back telling me she was in the process of getting the Romanov Crest on her whole back. She told me it was a good fit because she was Russian and dominant, and also because it would look good when she was wearing her corset and had her whip. She walked away from me making "ya-ya" noises and whipping motions.
I grabbed my dish soap and walked over to the automotive aisle for some windshield wiper fluid. I found the automotive aisle but couldn't find the wiper fluid. I didn't ask where they put it.
I paid for my stuff, in all $1 bills and left the store. As I was leaving the store, the beggar wearing the suit sang to me about how cold it was and that he wanted me to give him pennies.
I walked to my car and drove home and told Hubby about my adventure.
He didn't believe me.


  1. I believe you. This stuff happens to me all the time. Freaky lady in chaps touching your back---weird. Perhaps she felt drawn to you be cause of your shared interest in tattoos? Still--that would freak me out. You can never trust a person who wears chaps-especially if you live in the city.

  2. I love moments like these but mostly after they have happened. This is hilarious.


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