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So, this is how it starts.

I have a problem. I like people and I talk to them when the opportunity arises. Short trips to stores can turn into long trips and memorable conversations with random people.

Usually.

A while back, I was in the check out at a grocery store. The lines were long and there was a sense of impatience in the air. Grumbly, pinched faces who did not want to chat. Cool. The golden retriever in me can deal with that.

The woman working the register looked harried, and the people in front of me did not even look at her, not a word, acting as if she was a robot attendant, not a human. They finished and left.

This lack of kindness bothers me. She is just trying to get through her shift and get home while maintaining some dignity.

The tiny old woman behind me showed no interest in becoming my new best friend. Her eyes meet me with coldness when I smile at her. So, we know she is a good judge of character. (No, she didn’t look like the blog graphic.)

I greet the cashier and the bagger, and I turn to see the old bird of a woman is on her tiptoes, reaching over my groceries to get the plastic separator bar. I normally put that down to be polite, but I was being all “friend of the working people.”

I turn and say, “I am sorry! I could have gotten that for you.”

She stares at me like she is ready to draw her pistol and fire.

With a stern voice, she says, “Could have—but didn’t.”

The cashier side-eyes the woman, and we exchange glances of “What the heck was that!”

“Well . . .” I say at a loss for words.

The cashier and I are trying not to laugh, and I am trying to finish up and get out. The older woman is still staring holes in my back.

This was so funny and outrageous; I tell my wife. She thinks it is funny.

But.

Now when I screw up and do not do something around the house, I will say, “Oh, I am sorry, I should have . . .”

It is far too often met by my wife saying, “Could have—but didn’t.”

It is still funny, but it isn’t completely to be funny. I am guilty of the mistake.

I was recently thinking about this, “So, this is how that starts.”

The poor old dear was likely married to a man like me. My wife is lovely and kind, but in the future, I will have to monitor her in grocery stores.

The good part of this is that I get characters for my next novels. Not my wife, mind you. I still want to stay married to her.

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Read excerpts from Trolls and other Trouble - Book One
Read excerpts from Prophecies and other Problems - Book Two