Hurry up, Tuesday.

Grocery shopping is something I enjoy. I make my lists based on the layout of the store, and methodically cruise around until every item is in my cart.

Tonight I was fulfilling my single girl job description: perusing cat toys in the pet aisle. I was debating whether to purchase the wand with a wad of feathers at the end, or a fuzzy, mouse-shaped creature with sparkles and bells. Then I heard him.

“Anaheim Shores, right?” he asked. He was around 70, with hair [badly] dyed blonde and a Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned to the sternum. He had a ring on each pinky, a sizable belly, and an empty cart except for a bunch of unripe bananas and Q-tips. I sensed perviness and, feeling cornered, I immediately broke out into boob sweat.

Anaheim Shores is a condo community here in the flatlands of my beloved city, and it’s set around a meandering series of streams and ponds. It’s not too far from the store where we both were. I wondered if there was a white, window-less van waiting for him in the parking lot.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“I’ve seen you walking around my lake, haven’t I?” asked The Perv.

“Nope, not me.” By this time, I was trying to pick out some cat food so I could be on my way. Should I go with the Friskies pâté, or the prime filets? I couldn’t pick — largely because The Perv was in my way.

“Well, you should. It’s a nice lake. Here,” he said, extending something to me. “Here’s my card.”

I took it and he walked off, bestowing “blessings” upon me under his breath. He cast a creepy backwards glance my way before rounding the corner.

The face of the card had a crest-like design on it — knights’ helmets, to be exact. The back was equally strange. Here’s what I saw:


What the…?

Chairman of the Broad? Ew.

And pirates? What’s with this darned pirate thing these days? This isn’t the first male I’ve encountered who’s had a thing for the high seas.

Admittedly, I wondered if his pedicures were cheaper than the place that I go. I immediately decided I’d likely be paying for them in ways I didn’t care to imagine.

This calling card is not that of a gentleman — not that I would’ve called or sashayed around his lake if it had been. You know, the age difference and all.

I’d like to point out that I’ve collected a number of these experiences in my life. They find me, really. I wish they weren’t so common, but they are. I suppose they’re fodder.

I got home, had a few good laughs about it, then put my cat food haul away. Tomorrow being trash day, I went outside to wheel everything to the curb. I couldn’t get the yard trimmings barrel in a decent position before I began to move it, and as a result it ended up tipping over. All I could think about were how many spiders I’d just set free and which, most likely, were making a beeline for me. Dammit.

I guess this is the perfect definition of Monday. And you know what? I’ll take it. It had no shortage of weirdness, plenty of head-smacking moments and it gave me a gift: not only did I get a writing topic, I have oodles of gratitude over the fact that not all of my days are like this. Once in a blue moon, yes, and that’s about as often as I can handle them.

They keep me humble.

And single.

Can’t wait for Tuesday.

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