The Local Piggly Wiggly.
We simply call it “The Pig.”
Mom put together a list of grocery items needed for Thanksgiving.
We had thought that Thanksgiving was going to be ruined this year due to Mom’s Shingles but knock on wood, she has recovered and is doing well, and lots of people are helping her out this year.
So, I’m shopping at “The Pig.”
The place is crowded but not “Day before Thanksgiving” crowded. It’ll get that crowded tomorrow.
There is this older gentleman that I keep running into.
Not literally, but I keep getting in his way.
I apologize tremendously each time, and he says, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it one bit.” I grin and politely wave to him.
I have a dozen items to buy, and when I shop, I try to beat the World Record for shopping. —If such a thing exists.
In and Out is my goal.
So, it is my fault that I keep getting into this man’s way.
I wish you could’ve seen me.
I grabbed the veggies, threw them into that little plastic bag, and tossed ’em in the buggy.
Then the Pecans. Next, the Bread and Rolls.
Kayro Syrup? No problem. I know exactly where it’s located. I throw two bottles in the buggy.
It was as if I were dancing. I was in perfect rhythm.
Eggs, Cheese, and then a 20-ounce Mt. Dew because my Blood Sugar went low from the exercise.
I get in the line and pay my bill.
Voila. I’m out the door.
While outside, headed to my vehicle, I slowed down, pushing the buggy.
I’m also right in the middle of the parking lot lane holding up traffic.
I finally realize that I’m blocking traffic and hurridly move out of the way.
I begin to wave at the gentleman as he passes, but he stops to talk.
He rolls his window down and says, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it one bit.”
I grin and politely wave bye to the older gentleman.
