Why I don’t go out in public anymore

December 28, 2013

By myself anyway. Because people are weird, and they say weird things, and then I spend all day twitchy and nervous, wondering if I exist in an alternate reality.

This photo will make sense in a second.

 

Case in point, I was just at the library. As I walked toward the building, a man drove up to me in the parking lot. He yelled to me from within his car, but I couldn’t hear him because his window was rolled up.

“Pardon?” I said in Charades-ese, which was basically a shrug and a firm shake of the head, as if I had a gnat in my ear.

The man yelled again.

In order to hear him, I had to lean my head far inside his back window, which was rolled down, even though it made me uncomfortable to put any part of my body in a stranger’s car, because that’s how people become sisterwives in a backyard shed.

HIM: Where’s the food?

ME: I’m sorry. What food?

HIM: Don’t you know anything?

ME: I do.

HIM: So where’s the food?

ME: I don’t know. I’m here for books, sir.

HIM: Nevermind. I’ll find it.

ME:

HIM: You can’t eat books!

 

 

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