Significant Sociological Differences Or The Heart of Darkness
Sure, this picture has been used before. However, it bears repeating considering the events of today. Frankly, you would not want pictures of what I'm about to tell you.
Liz asked me if I wanted to join her while she ran some errands in Lima and I said yes. I should have stayed home and watched college football. After all, that's always the right decision and I should know that. Amateur mistake, forgive me.
We go to Stites, the best scratch and dent grocery store for finding such bargains as five pounds of grits for a dollar (yes, I bought one - I love grits). It was rather crowded today, being the day after government checks arrived. There are always some interesting people loading their carts (or two) with frozen pizza rolls, oyster crackers (10 bags for $1), and pretty much anything with low nutritional value. Sadly, many of the shoppers on this day also looked like their diet never included fresh vegetables. Were they embarrassed by this? No. They have vanity license plates proudly touting it. In the parking lot, a van was parked in the handicap space with "FAT MAMA" on the plates.
Fortunately, we had a respite from weirdness at Tractor Supply, where Liz bought a salt cube for her goats (no really, that is not weird - although I didn't know that deer salt licks and goat salt licks are two different things).
Then, we went to Ray's. All this excitement meant we needed to use the Ladies Room, emphasis on LADIES. When we walked into the two stall room, a young girl was washing her hands. In the stall closest to the door, we saw adult-sized fleece pajama bottoms around the ankles of the occupant. And because that wasn't icky enough, she was on her cell phone. We knew this because the caller was on speaker phone and all of us could hear the incessant yammering of the woman friend with her slight Kentucky accent. The stall occupant occasionally said, "yeah" or "uh-huh." If we weren't so appalled, we probably would have busted out laughing.
Sue pointed out that I seem to have a pattern of unfortunate public restroom incidents (all of which seem to be documented on this blog). This is true. Of course, unlike her, I've never had to inform the agent at the Michigan Welcome Center that there was a "(wo)man down" on the floor of their public ladies room.
There seems to be epidemic of ickiness.
I'd ask you to share your public restroom stories, but frankly, I'm still queasy. I think I'll go take a shower. Then, I'm never leaving the house again.