I am, undoubtedly, a creature of habit. I basically do the same 10 things over and over again each day for every day of my life. Why fix what isn't broken, right? One of my 10 daily rituals is taking our dog Rudi for a run around the block when I get home from work. Keep in mind, city folk, this is what we call a "country block" in which each side of the square is 1 mile in length. Also, there are no new-fangled inventions like sidewalks and--AND--the speed limit is 55 MPH.
So, it's quite the haul--especially when you own a dog that is only interested in actually running (or sprinting, depending on her mood) when she sees another dog. Or, when I say some non-sensical phrase in my "excited voice" to make her think something earth-shattering is occurring and the only way we can possibly enjoy this thing is to run faster. I usually go with classics like, "Rudi, daddy's home!" or "Are you going to eat those goats?"
We pretty much
Roughly a year ago, I was in Awful Superstore (you know, the one that rhymes with "Mall Fart" that I have personally refused to step foot in for the remainder of my non-Alzheimer's days) and was walking down the aisle to get some stupid thing that I didn't need and someone began screaming hello. It was that scary hello from my nightmares, the one that could only be uttered by Overly Friendly Weird Guy. It was. He stopped me, literally, in my tracks to say how nice it was to see me again and that he'd know "that lady who always runs with her black lab" anywhere. Um, what?
BTW, she's a lab MIX, Overly Friendly.
It was that day that I personally vowed to avoid Awful Superstore like the plague for all eternity. I'm holding strong at 1 year. :::throws confetti:::
So let me set up yesterday's mega awkward interaction for you:
It's really, really windy outside. As in, that weird wind that blows so hard you feel like your head is hollow, it's impossible to hear anything and you feel as though it's possible to literally be blown away.
It's starting to drizzle.
We are roughly a 1/2 mile from home.
My 75-lb. sack of potatoes dog is actually interested in running.
I'm wearing all black (even spandex shants, gasp!) and my dog is also wearing all black.
Cars are driving by at 4586154455 miles per hour at random intervals.
Then, whaddaya know, Overly Friendly wants to have a conversation with me. He screams something to me (not HELLO!! he already did that the first time we passed his house) and I cannot hear him. He's at least 20 yards from the road, in a garage, carrying a gigantic tool box. So, I stop running and cup my hand like an old man over my left ear and say, "HUH?!?"
He then moves 2 steps closer and repeats himself.
Overly Friendly: "Can I interest you in some FARM FRESH EGGS???"
Me: "Oh, no thank you."
OF: "You sure? They really are fresh!!"
Me: "That's OK."
OF: "Yeah, it's my son's project. Boy, he just loves those chickens!"
Me, stupidly: "Oh, yeah?"
Keep in mind that all the while I'm conversing with Overly Friendly about fresh eggs over the rediculous wind, Rudi is becoming increasingly interested in attempting to eat this man's goats. As in, whining like she's dying so she can hop the fence and nom on their legs. It's as though I'm on the cusp of going completely insane.
So, I do what any sane person would do: I mutter "Daddy's home!" and begin sprinting home.