Tonight J and I went for a late-night walk with the dog and BOY did we time that right! Just as we rounded the corner a block away we happened to glance into a well-lit, open first-floor window facing the street. And what confronted our curious glance? A scantily-clad man’s … MAN area!!! In a tight blue marble bag, no less. Right in front of the open window. Facing us. Just the groin area. With all the lights on. Blue skivvies. Pasty white thighs.
A split second before an unseen woman slapped his can from behind.
And he giggled.
I do hope I never see these people in daylight.
Saturday we priced lawnmowers at Sears and found the exact model we were looking for in our price range. (Actually, I campaigned for one of those human-powered push mowers, but J is still haunted by a dull, reluctant push mower from his childhood—so we got the model that belches noise and air pollution and is nearly too heavy for me to handle. That may be a good thing, come to think of it.)
The one we picked was a closeout model chained up in front of the store. We returned to Sears the next day to purchase it. We paid and listened to the sales person give us the pitch about maintenance and proper use and extended warranties and prepared to leave the store. As we exited, we saw a woman polishing the engine on our mower.
“What’s that woman doing touching our lawnmower?” J whispered, a little territorially.
My hackles went up. That was OUR mower. A feeling of smug ownership swelled inside of me. We got the mower FIRST! We WON the shopping competition! Take that, Mower Rubber! You snooze, you lose! And stop rubbing our mower.
She stood in front of it, admiring it, and didn’t move. We arrived and stood next to her.
“Looking for a mower?” she asked. Sort of bitchily, might I add.
“Just bought one,” J replied, staking his turf.
“Which one?” She put her hands on her hips, ready for battle.
“Second from the right.” We crossed our arms and assumed defensive positions. The mower was OURS.
She bared her teeth at us. “Oh no. Not that one. I just bought that one.”
J smirked. “So did we.”
There ensued a highly tense stand-off in which we compared receipts to see who bought the mower first. You would think we were battling over the Gaza Strip, or fighting over the last Tickle Me Elmo at Kmart on Christmas Eve in 1995. (I know, they’re really interchangeable comparisons, aren’t they?)
Who would win? Who would go home with the last closeout model with the large rear wheel and reasonable price and maneuverable size? Who would win the Lawnmower Battle of 2008? Which Sears shoppers would reign supreme?!
I’ll just cut to the chase. In the end, she won. She beat us to the mower by four measly minutes. (What are the odds?) But to the losers actually went the spoils, because we were upgraded to a better mower at a discount. A heavier, shinier, more powerful mower that I will have no chance pushing up any kind of grade at all. It may also have magical powers. Sadly, saving the planet is not one of them. Saving us from knee-high dandelions? Yes. That could be one.
Let me close with a plug for my friend Allison Winn Scotch’s debut novel, The Department of Lost and Found, which was released in paperback today. If you haven’t already read it, you can now pick it up for less than the cost of four gallons of gas in central Wisconsin! (Is that a great sales pitch or what?) But seriously, it’s a bittersweet, heartwarming, funny, moving story…go, buy, take it for a spin around the block, enjoy!!