It Ain't Easy Being The Bug

Wednesday was one of those bug days. You know, when Mrs. HM was the bug, and life was the windshield. When The Universe was out to thwart her every move.

It all started at Mailbox Row. EmBee was full of 6 pieces of junk mail, and NOT the bill from DISH that I have been expecting for several days. You may recall that DISH never allows enough time for the payment to be mailed. It's due on the 25th, and here it is the 17th, and I don't have it yet.

I stopped by Country Mart to pick up scratchers to put in Genius's weekly letter. Of course it didn't hurt to get a couple for myself. As I was making my final selection, a shopper lady came up behind me with her cart. That's not unusual. Even when I'm buying things there, I push my cart over to the machine to get a ticket on the way out. However...I don't get right up on somebody who is already buying. You lag back, you know. Like at an ATM. You don't want to be all up in somebody's business. But I guess this gal did. I swear I could feel her breath on the back of my neck. How rude! I pushed the last button, and as I bent over to pick up the ticket from the dispensing tray, I didn't even care if my ample rumpus stuck out and hit her in the gut. It didn't. But I wouldn't have cared.

From there I headed to Casey's to cash in a scratcher. The big truck delivering ice for their outside double-cooler was taking up about 5 parking spots and one of the gas pumps. I don't know why they have that. They have plenty of room in the inside coolers. And with this one, a clerk has to walk outside with a key. Because if they leave it unlocked through the summer, it will be a matter of HEY! FREE ICE! for passersby, because there's no window on that end of the store. I had to park up front, making backing out awkward because of people pumping gas.

Leaving Casey's, I took the short cut through the parking lot of CeilingReds, but had trouble getting onto the lot of The Gas Station Chicken Store. There was a broken-down green pickup truck in the way. He wouldn't have been, except there was a smaller black pickup truck parked right beside him. A dude was crawling under the truck on a piece of cardboard.

Once inside, the Man Owner greeted me with, "Oh! We're out of Diet Coke until tomorrow!"

I thought he was just joshing with me. I started on back towards the soda fountain. I didn't see a handwritten paper note taped over the Diet Coke. But the Man Owner assured me they were out, because the delivery guy had made a mistake. THEN he asked if I wanted to get a cup of ice and pour a bottle of Diet Coke over it!

I give Man Owner credit for thinking outside the box. For trying to keep me there in his establishment. I'm pretty sure he would have given it to me free, although I politely declined his offer before he got that far.

"You're driving me to your competitor, you know. Their Diet Coke is only second-best. I prefer yours. It's a hardship for me, but I guess I'll have to stop by Orb K on my way out of town..."

"Well...sometimes you hafta do what you hafta do!"

He's a really nice guy. I still cashed in my $10 winning scratcher for two five-dollar tickets. And won $10. So there's that. And he WAS so apologetic about being out of my magical elixir. That didn't change the fact that I had to settle for this:

Those cups are taller and thinner, and easier for me to tip over. Thank the Gummi Mary I was able to control my flapping arms when reaching around in the vicinity of that drink, which I always double-cup to preserve coolness from noon to the late night hours.

Oh, and the icing on the apology-needing cake this day was the sweet kiss of my little dog Jack when I got home. Uh huh. I leaned over to pet him on the side porch, and he licked inside my mouth.

Gotta learn to keep my mouth shut while dog-petting on those days when I'm the bug.