Wednesday, September 28, 2016

A Day Without Weirdos Would Be A Day Without 44 oz Diet Coke

Even if Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's power is cut off, her natural weirdo magnet will still have ample charge.

My power WAS almost cut off one time. Through no fault of my own! Not even Farmer H's. But that's a story several days down the road. Today let's dwell on that weirdo magnet.

I swear I am turning into a doddering old fool. I got up at 8:30 today (nothing wrong with THAT) and went about my daily activities. Took med 1. Sat down with cell phone charging, house phone next to me, Shiba on my lap, and cranked back in the La-Z-Boy for some internetting and TV. After an hour of old best pizza shows and some Man vs Food on the Travel Channel, I fell asleep. ASLEEP! At 9:30 in the morning! I woke up at 11:45! At least I woke up, I guess. I took meds 2 and 3, took a shower, took out the trash, and took myself to town for a 44 oz Diet Coke.

That's when I felt the pull of the weirdo magnet. Incoming.

I had stopped at the end of the gravel road to get the mail from EmBee. I usually get it on the way home, but that's when I leave home before 1:00. As I parked on the edge of the gravel, I saw that somebody had abandoned a white sedan on the little road just across our low water bridge. The road that washes out EVERY time there comes a downpour, even though the county sends a crew out to fix it. They must have put in five new drainage pipes there over the past couple years. This last one might even be big enough, but the gravel on both sides of it washes out. We haven't had one of those rains for a month or so. Thus the ability of someone to abandon a car on that little piece of road, on the outside of their metal gate.

I opened T-Hoe's door and heard it. A man talking. I did not have my glasses on (who needs them for driving, anyway). I looked over by that abandoned car and saw an old man (probably younger than me, but bald) standing in the ditch. He was talking to himself, and music was playing. I didn't want to stare, because he was looking at me. Like with a wild beast or a bratty dog, you don't want to make eye contact with weirdos. That challenges them. Or encourages them. I suppose he might have been shoveling. He was up to his waist down in that ditch. It was dry, of course. But the gravel is that big rip-rap rock. Not easy to shovel.

I ducked my head and dashed (for me) across the blacktop to EmBee to pull out an alumni magazine from Missouri State, a junk mail catalog with Christmas gift ideas on the cover, and junk mail from our bank about a new credit card.

Thank the Gummi Mary this guy was gone when I came back. I did NOT go over to see if he had made any improvements to the ditch.

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom doesn't cross that bridge when she comes to it.

3 comments:

Sioux said...

Perhaps you could start penning an anthology---a collection of all your weirdo stories...

fishducky said...

I like Sioux's idea!!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
Yes. Imagine the fun I'd have, trying to track down all the weirdos to ask them to sign a release! Sorry, Madam, but the weirdos were not put in Hillmomba for the sole purpose of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's amusement!

***
fishducky,
I find that Sioux generally has good ideas, except, perhaps, the one that involves a woodchipper.