Random Craziness

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I enjoy the little routine things in life. 

Like my trip to the convenient store to get the paper each morning. 

It’s consistent. Same thing every day. I have a running conversation going with Carol...just a few sentences each morning that’s gone on for about ten years running.

I’ve never seen her outside of her place behind the counter, but I know things about her family and her about mine.

The other day I walked in and even though it was fairly early there was a woman ahead of me in line.

The woman was dressed in what looked like a long, pink nightgown. She was also wearing a hat that was tied up on a strap around her neck.

I caught her in mid-sentence.

“So, he kept asking me for my phone number, and I’m like, why do you need my number? I hide my number for a reason. If you give them your number they can track you. This ain’t my first rodeo. I told him that he didn’t need my number.”

Carol looked up. The woman glanced behind at me. I had zero bearing on her need to tell all of the story.

“So, the guy said that if I wasn’t going to give him my number that he’d have to verify me in another way. I was up for that, but then he asked me my street address. Can you imagine? He wanted me to give him my house number. No way! Next thing I know the guy will be standing outside my house.”

Okay.

My routine was getting a work over, and I’m not the most patient man. Poor Carol was looking really lost. Yet, she’s a nice lady and she wasn’t about to be rude.

“He wasn’t getting my address or my phone number so then he asks me my mother’s maiden name. My mother has been dead for 23 years! But you know what he was trying to do was to trace me. Oh, you gotta’ go. I won’t bore you, but to make a long story short, I ended up hanging up in the guy. No way am I handing out personal information to a guy over the phone. Next thing I know he’ll be in my driveway, knocking on my door!”

The woman gathered her lottery tickets and headed for the door. I stepped up in line and Carol rolled her eyes.

“What was that about?” I asked when the woman had escaped outside.

“How the hell do I know?” Carol said. “I stopped listening, but I’ll tell you, that woman is certifiable. She shouldn’t be out roaming the streets. Last week she told me that she’d been abducted by aliens.”

I laughed.

“I’m serious! There are a lot of mentally ill people just walking around amongst us.”

“Some of us just hide it better,” I said.

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