the lime, the watch and the weirdo

there is a little fruit & veggie store on the main street in Glebe which is a short walk from my house.

i usually walk with Harley up there and tie him to the “doggie pole” especially placed out the front of their shop, while I head in and pick up things for dinner.

the store is like many others of it’s kind; quaint, overflowing with brightly coloured fruits and vegetables and small so that you have to do the “aisle dancing game” with other patrons with full shopping baskets in hand.

on this occasion, i was waiting for a woman to squeeze pass me in the aisle when she asked for the time.
startled at being asked a question while being directly in front of my face and no more than 15cm away from it, i stepped back, bumping into a wooden tray overfilled with limes which then started an avalanche rolling into the aisle sending a few stray ones out into the street.

many things flashed through my mind in these 5 seconds including;
◊ is this my fault considering my personal space was being invaded?
◊ can i rush to pick up these limes before they roll onto Glebe Point Road and under the wheels of the bus that is at the stop right out front?
◊ will i be able to get them without my dress flying up and exposing my vanity?
◊ what am i going to do with my basket and handbag and umbrella while i am chasing limes out to the street?
and
◊ does the lady still want to know the time?

while several people started chasing them (myself included) the local resident crazy person (habitual drug user & occasional pet thief should also be considered in this description) was in prime position to pick one up while laughing hysterically and then proceed on up the street.

i truly am;
a clutz,
a trouble magnate,
a random story gatherer,
potentially insane,
embarrassed.

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3 thoughts on “the lime, the watch and the weirdo

  1. You missed a great opportunity. Should’ve launched into song “Does anybody really know what time it is, does anybody really care”. But if the lady wsn’t a Chcago fan and was born after 1969 she probably wouldn’t know what your singing about.

  2. This reminds me of what happened when Finley projectile vomited in a fruit store recently. I half-heartedly cleaned it up (I did try, I used a mop but it was faulty), then I left quickly and quietly. The key is to just not look up or worry about anyone’s reaction.

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