hello friends,thanks for stopping by. i have been trying to balance the writing, the posting, the grad schooling, and the listening and sometimes helping of high schoolers. its a balancing act and juggling of life that i am working at it. i get you two posts a week, i promise. this was written from the prompt- being mean. enjoy-have a great weekend! all my thanks always!
Being mean. I wasn’t being mean today; today but I did steal a homeless person’s shopping cart. Now before you turn your head slightly to the right and get that parental look in your eyes- what type of liberal are you?- what type of person are you? You say with the look that only a good teacher or caregiver can give. Yes I did steal a homeless man’s shopping cart but I didn’t know it was his. No there was no said man in sight. No attachment to this transportation of his things. I didn’t take all his belongings out or anything dramatic like that. That would have been being mean. No, I took a homeless man’s cart-his home-by accident. It was an accident.
I went to TJs to buy a few things that somehow multiplied into needing a cart. You go in for one thing or a few things and they procreate into to a whole lot of shit. So there I am falling over holding onto the basket while the things on top balance back and forth. And I still needed more. TP and cat litter for roommate and paper towels. I needed a cart. Earlier I had by accident thrown a lemon out of my hand. It flew down and a worker caught me. Watch out he laughs. Thank god I am not on the Giants I respond. I work out the timing of grabbing my cart and keeping my spot in line just right as a man with a mets hat and ear plugs of music sits behind me. Brave man I think to wear that hat here, today.
Outside I go choose my cart. And as I walked in. One of the baggers- shot me a glance and a smirk that isn’t our cart. Oh shit. Really. No. And it’s got a tool in it. I look down. The cart isn’t red team of Traders Joes it is painted black and Safeway is imprinted where my hand rests. Leave it to me to choose the one cart out of the village that is not there's. And there is a tool some type of wrench or screw or something. The only tools I know are the hammer and the screwdriver. Tools are foreign. To me. We all are laughing the bagger, the checker, and me. The checker says in a solemn tone it actually is a homeless man’s. Great, I stole a homeless man’s shopping cart. Well he is a mean homeless man if that makes you feel better. We laugh at the randomness of choosing the cart and I hand a cough drop to each while one needs one the other just gets one. It is the least I can do-I stole a homeless man’s shopping cart.
I wasn’t being mean. In the randomness that is life sometimes we make mistakes. I just hoped the man didn’t spot me on my way up the elevator. I even ask the bagger for backup if I need it. To unload my belongings from what he calls his home. His home. That I stole. By accident. Mean or not- this man- no one should steal your home. He needs a lock. A lock so other unsuspecting shoppers don’t borrow it. I drive away and wonder if he will be back for it. Or will it be replaced. Replaced like so many things that are supposed to last forever.
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