I had to run a few errands today, one of which was a stop at Costco. I hadn't planned to buy anything, just ask a question, but I knew it was almost dinnertime and Bryan was home with the kids, so I decided to see if I could find some food to bring home.
I wasn't in the store for long, but when I exited with my bounty, I had a moment of not knowing where my car was. No, I thought, I remember walking on this crosswalk, it must be down here. So I started walking. More than halfway down the aisle it occurred to me that I should have seen it by now and, oh yes, it must be off to my left.
I swerved and headed off in the new direction. Again, I thought I should have seen it, could it be one more row over? No, that was too far. Perhaps I'd turned the wrong way. Once again, I changed direction, this time looping back up.
The thought struck me that I must look pretty foolish, wandering through the parking lot with my dinner.
And at that moment, I realized I was talking to myself. My inside-my-head-voice had betrayed me. So now I was the crazy lady with a big red box of frozen burritos clutched to her chest, roaming the parking lot of Costco, babbling to herself.
I found my car.
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2 comments:
We older folks call these experiences, increasingly common with time I fear, senior moments. Welcome to the senior class.
My knew a mam that lost his car at the Pomona fair. He had to wait for the parking lot to clear to find his car.
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