Well, before I could “bip” I had to get myself to the car. Not so easy when you have to skate – sort of. This winter has been a humdinger and our house on the rise with the gravel walks and lumpy-with-ice driveway can give a girl pause, ya know? Anyway, I did hazard the trip and, like I frequently do, I observed little things.
At the post office someone had put out a five gallon bucket to catch the drips from the roof. The bucket was full, frozen, and sitting right next to a lump of ice. The lump was shaped just like the bucket, so “someone” must have upended the first bucket of frozen drips, banged the ice out, and left it there, sort of like a companion bucketsicle. Unless – the bucketsicle wouldn’t move. Suppose someone tried to kick it out of the way and stubbed a toe causing someone to go postal. Oh, go ahead and groan. Bad joke, I know, but no worse than a mother naming her kid Someone. Moving right along.
Next, I ran into the Dollar Tree to pick up a card for a friend. I had one dollar and some change in my wallet. And that’s all I wanted to spend. So, didn’t that store have all kinds of stuff I couldn’t live without – just today when I only had ONE dollar? But I also had my debit card – so – into the cart went facial tissue (Puffs!), plastic hangers, envelopes, wipes, and two greeting cards (I thought of another friend). And then I saw the man.
Portly plus, I guess is how you’d describe him and dressed all in brown like a big teddy bear. I glanced at him as he stared intently at the snacks in the J-food aisle. I thought, Gosh, maybe he’s getting some lo-cal soy kind of thing, and he’ll tell me about them when we meet up plastic goods. He’ll extol the virtues of freeze dried, sea salted, peas. But, no, he was in the line behind me a few minutes later with 4 bags of pork rinds in his paw. I know, I know, they’re mostly air. Porky flavored air. I’m sure he was getting them for his cat, Trissy. Probably his own soy stuff was already in the car. I try not to judge.
The thing is, I’m suffering badly from Cabin Fever. You can tell by the claw marks on the coffin lid. But, March is around the corner. I’m partial to March, the month of Hope. I hope the bluetts are thinking of waking up, and I hope the robins are going over their song lyrics. I hope the sun melts all the dirty snow, and I hope we don’t have to buy oil until September. Things like that to look forward to are what keep me from chowing the pork rinds. But, I'll tell you this, if winter lasts much longer, Trissy better watch her back!