Coming out of a shop yesterday in the early afternoon.
Because I'm a wuss and I bought a case of water (I'm now a big bottled water guy-as long as I can put some kind of flavoring in it), I used a shopping cart to transport it through the parking lot.
So after I get to the car and unload it I've got to return the cart to the corral (or korral; I figure whatever you begin the first word with, a "c" or a "k", the other word should follow), because I'm That Guy the one who doesn't abandon stuff in place when he shops. I'm thinking if it turns out there is a God and S/He's keeping track, perhaps some of these little gestures will prove helpful when we hit The Total Key at The Pearly Gates. Or not.
Anyway. It wasn't that far to the corral and there weren't that many carts to shepherd which was just fine by me. As I'm walking towards the corral a guy who had just returned his cart is turning around and walking away from it and right by me.
I saw his face first, and the left side looked he'd had the worse part of the business end of a tenderizer. Then I saw his shirt. Let's see if you reach my conclusion. His shirt read: "I don't use Google. My wife already knows everything."
No, I didn't see the wife. And no, I didn't look for her either. Would you?
-bill kenny
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