Dirty Looks and a Pound of Butter

She turned and gave me a dirty look.

We were standing in line at the supermarket. She had a cart full of stuff and she was in the “express” checkout (for up to 12 items). She was texting and not paying attention to the world around her. I deigned to suggest she move up since the line had progressed while she was in cyberspace.

I’m sure my voice sounded like a fog horn from the realms of the real world where she clearly didn’t want to exist. She grudgingly moved up but I’m sure the thought crossed her mind to step back on my toes before she did.

A large smile swept across my face as I stared at the back of her head. I should have been pissed off that she was pissed off. But I wasn’t. I was amused. I guess the thought of getting a pound of butter for $3.87 allowed me to float above her indignation.

Besides, what do I know? Maybe she had a husband whom she was tired of being married to who was texting her from the parking lot, telling her to get a move on, and she was taking the check out as slowly as she could.

That might explain the Rubbermaid bins.

But who knows?

Really, all I know is that she obviously didn’t have to pee.

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