NaBloPoMo #28 :: How To Tell You’ve Been Spending Too Much Time Alone Writing

I have spent the last few days writing and spending some time thinking; pondering mysteries, marveling at the mundane. Little Miss Introspective.

So this morning I decided to go to the market and do some… well… marketing so we can bypass that little chore this weekend. I get the ol’ MOP out,  bundle up and scoot off.

The MOP  is  an acronym for Mobile Oppression Palace, so named by Manthing because lugging it around oppresses him. Heh.  I normally need to put the MOP into service when I know I am going to have walk a lot and a cane isn’t
going to work or when I need to go to the market. I am not allowed to drive due to medication and "reflex impairments" . The market is close
enough to walk to but because of "mobility issues" I "sometimes experience", I can’t actually walk there. In other words I’m not allowed to drive because I’m too fucking loopy and slow and I need a scooter to go further than a few blocks because my back’ s fucked up.

Anyway, the quiet little rural type road I use to get to the market because it has little traffic was like the Indy Goddamn Speedway. It didn’t bode well but the morning was crisp and coldish, not too breezy, and I was enjoying my own company. I have to say  I arrived at the market intact and ready to get what I needed and go.

Things went well enough.  I grabbed a couple of packs of bottled Diet Coke to shore up my dwindling supply. I visited the produce section and grabbed a cucumber for Manthing’s lunch and celery for the Turkey stock. Somewhere between the spaghetti and soup aisles, I decided we needed a roast for dinner but ended up with Corned Beef and a head of cabbage.

I went back up the soup aisle on my way to the meat section to check for our favorite soup, Cheesy Chicken Enchilada. Yes, it was in stock and ON SALE. Such a deal! So after I loaded the remaining 12 inches of the floor board on the MOP with soup cans, I decided I wanted soup for lunch at the gallery this week so I began looking for other kinds and marveling at how yummy some of them sounded.

Suddenly I became aware I was being stared at. The realization settled on me gradually as I was lost in my soup reverie.  I slowly looked up to find an older woman, staring at me like I had four heads. I met her stare and raised her a cocked eyebrow.

"Oh!", she said a little sheepishly, "I thought you were talking on the phone; you know those headsets you can’t see unless you look".

Uhm.  Okay. Do you always check people out like this to see if they have a headset on? And if so, WHY IS IT ANY OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS?

Vaguely annoyed, I continued looking at her and said, "Nope; no headset here".

"Well, you were talking to yourself", she stated nervously.

Evidently, I was reading the soup can labels and looking for the carb counts out loud and commenting on them, unaware I was doing it. But you know me, I don’t have the decency to be embarrassed. Or even act like I was.

"Yes, I guess I was having a chat with myself. At least I know I was talking to myself and not some other entity in my head", I replied, good-naturedly.

She was not amused. She was looking a little worried now, her eyes darting around the aisle looking for someone, anyone else.

"Well, I was just checking…" she trailed off, pulling her shopping cart closer to her.

Recognizing she was looking for witnesses and assistance should I suddenly jump up off the MOP and attack her with a can of Progresso or my crisp head of celery while battling with the demons residing inside my head, I squelched my desire to ask just what it was she was checking on.

"Oh", I offered blandly. When she didn’t reply, I looked at her square in the eye, gave her a bright smile and said quite cheerfully, " Well, thanks.  I’ve got to go pick up my medications", and I rolled away in the direction of the pharmacy.

Yes, I know. Don’t say it. I just couldn’t help myself.


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