So I woke up this morning suctioned to my bed. I know it's going to be an amazingly awful day when the sweat created just from sleeping in a tank top with a fan blowing directly on me is enough to suction me to the sheet. Seriously. I hate peeling myself off of anything & peeling myself off of a sheet because it's 84* at 7:00 in the morning & the humidity makes it feel like 127*? That's the worst.
Being that I knew what a lovely day it would be, what with the humidity level & all, & not having A/C in my home...still...I thought it was a great day to go grocery & household-stuff shopping. My truck has A/C. The grocery stores have A/C. The other stores have A/C. Sure, why not?
Off I went with my coupons, sales flyers, & lists in my A/C.
What I do remember is reaching for a cart just a second before he did. As I pulled my cart out, he reached for his cart. Still giving the majority of my attention to Gerard in his kilt, I didn't even look at this man. I actually only know it's a man because I eventually turned to look at him. Now what could bring me out of a moment with Gerard, you are surely thinking. I will tell you.
It was a man's voice. A man's voice saying, "I'm your Daddy."
I turned & I did the only thing I could do. I Prince Faced him...
...or maybe it was more like...
...I'm honestly not sure which I gave him; all I know is I was feelin' both.
Dude just looked me up & down, smirked, & walked away.
Really. Who does that?
The whole "who's your Daddy" thing really grosses me out in the first place. To have a random man just tell me he's my Daddy...that's a whole nother Ick Factor level right there. Actually, I don't think that one even registers on the Ick Factor.
I did my shopping as unquickly as I could. Not that I was intentionally slow or anything. I was just unquick. 'Cause I was all about that air conditioning for as long as I could have it, yo.
I was actually kinda sad when I ran out of items on my list because that meant I had no reason to not check out. I'd get some odd looks...or at least odder than usual...if I just walked around the grocery store until closing, with my milk turning to cheese & my ice cream dripping all up & down the aisles. My peaches would be soggy from sitting in ice cream juice & my avocados would be guacamole. That's just not right.
So I checked out.
Then I walked into the 169* (or what felt like it) heat & humidity to my truck.
It was as I was filling my truck with my groceries that I saw him. The man that made me stop mid-lift, frozen with a bag in my outstretched arms, at the halfway point between the cart & my truck. I just stood there looking at this man. Like this...
...because This Man was singing to his truck. Sing. Ing. To. His. Truck.
Right into the windshield.
Leaning over the side of his truck, one hand on his windshield, the other on his heart, looking into his windshield as if it was the most beautiful windshield he had ever seen. Singing a cappella with all the emotions his beautiful little heart could hold & letting his truck know exactly how he felt about it with the most
God awful precious opera-ish song ever.
I stood there
staring watching for longer than I politely should have. I eventually remembered my grocery bag still in my outstretched arms & completed the action of putting it into the back of the truck. As I did so, I casually glanced back behind me at This Man while he sang away to see if maybe, just maybe, there was perhaps another human inside of this truck that he was singing to. Not that that would be totally normal to do in a Piggly Wiggly parking lot, but maybe the poor guy had used his ex-girlfriend's name while speaking to his wife as they were loading up their groceries & he was professing his undying love in song as an apology for being a dumbass. It's conceivable. It could happen, I'm sure.
I turned to face his truck, parked across the lane behind me. I squatted to see into his truck behind the glare on his windshield. I twisted into various squatting positions as I peered into his truck, directly across from me. I tried with all my might to see another person in that truck. I stood up & stretched on my tippy toes, I craned my neck, I slowly bent back down to squatting. I saw a steering wheel. I saw a seat. I saw a baseball cap on the dash. I saw newspapers on the dash. I saw the back window in his truck. There was no other person.
This man was most definitely singing to his truck. Or at least to the windshield.
Maybe he just got it replaced after his soon-to-be ex-wife threw a tire iron at his windshield & he was just loving that new, unscathed piece of glass.
I don't know.
And herein lies my question. Am I the only one these things happen to or does it happen to normal people too? I've never been normal so I really would like to know.