Now that I’ve had a chance to once again get acclimatised with my daily routine - post holidays, my memory is slowly but surely starting to recall the events of the past few weeks. My memory is odd that way. While I don’t have a problem with either my short or long term memory, it does tend to take a while before things get processed. And then there’s the spontaneous recollections, like suddenly recalling being pulled into the school principal’s office for playing marbles on the front lawn in the 4th grade while I’m brushing my teeth this morning. What’s that about?
Now I’m getting deja-vu for having posted about this phenomenon before, and it’s freaking me out a bit. I quite frankly don’t want to know either, I’m too chicken to scroll down and look!
Anyhoo, while we were in luffly Kingston Ontario (last week was it?), we made a point of stopping in at Cookes, an old world import shoppe. We make a habit of stopping in whenever we’re in Kingston, they’ve absolutely fabulous stuff in there, imported from all over. It was here my wife discovered HP Curry back in May, and ever since, I’ve been wanting to crack open that bottle, but I’m too chicken to do so without having another bottle at the ready. Once it’s opened, it’s in the fridge and off my desk, and that simply won’t do. So, back at Cookes we searched for another bottle, but there were none to be found. We asked the manager (an older woman with a proper English accent) if they had any more. “I’m afraid not,” she said, “although my husband is planning on bringing some back with him on his next visit to the UK.” shocked look They actually import the stuff..by hand?? I can just picture some distinguished gentleman in some hotel room in the UK, stuffing his suitcase fully of HP Curry! LOL
While filling up the car this morning, another car pulled up at the pump opposite mine and a well dressed woman in her 40’s exited the car. She immediately came over to me and asked if I could help her with dispensing gas from these “new fangled, complicated pumps”. My first reaction was, “you’ve GOT to be kidding”. After all, these pumps have only been “new fangled” for what, 10 years? I bit my tongue, went over and lifted the nozzle from the pump and handed it to her and said “Now you select which grade fuel you want. That’s it.” Looking confused, she says “Which one?”. I’m about to burst out laughing at this point, but I politely push the button for her. I was only after this point that I could go back to my own car.
Who in this day & age doesn’t know how to pump gas? Perhaps someone who doesn’t drive a car, but that obviously wasn’t the case. Perhaps someone who only just got their license? No, she pulled up next to that pump with some authority. Someone who always stops only at full serve service stations? Perhaps, but she was driving a 10 year old car, and she didn’t have that “nose up in the air”…air about her. I’m at a bit of a loss to explain it really. mortified look Perhaps she thought I looked like….Matthew Broderick?! LOL, nononono that’s gone far enough with that thought! shudders violently
sarcasm What a fun experiment this has turned out to be! Long fun filled days with migraine headaches, the crankies coming to visit continuously (and uninvited). end sarcasm Still, I’ll feel better one of thes days right? RIGHT?
