Fayette County Errands



It makes me feel a bit hillbilly-ish to put it this way, but I drove into town today to run some errands. Makes me feel like I should have been hitching the horses to the buckboard wagon rather than checking the gas gauge on the SUV before heading down the road.

I figured that, because of the places I had to go (one of them with a name that ends in ‘mart’), I could dress pretty casual. I’m usually a jeans kind of guy, but I’m not usually one to just wear a t-shirt when I’m out and about.  But today, thinking Fayette County and the ‘mart’, I threw on a t-shirt and headed out the door.

It cracks me up when I catch myself worrying about being underdressed around these here parts (can you read that without hearing the country twang in your head?).  After all, I had a woman in front of me in line wearing sweat pants and flip flops. And I’m talking gray stained sweat pants and flip flops from the dollar store.  No Victoria’s Secret ‘Pink’ sweats.  And there was another in her pajama bottoms and fuzzy slippers.    I was overdressed.

Then I had an old guy wheezing behind me. No, not a few feet behind me, only a few inches behind me. He was a shorter guy and I could literally feel his breath on the back of my arm. I tried to subtly move up a little to put a little distance between us and he actually kept up with me. I’d slide a few inches forward, he’d slide a few inches forward. I’d lean forward a bit, he’d lean forward a bit. I’d take a half step forward…well you get the idea. And, since the woman in front of us was have 10 minutes worth of trouble with coupons, finding her checkbook, finding a pen, dropping her pen, finding her checkbook, etc, our little dance could have made for an interesting YouTube video if the store had working security cameras. Especially since I kept moving forward until I myself was no more than a few inches from the woman in front of me. “Hi. How’ya doin’?” 🙂

But, when the old guy started coughing and I could feel it on my back…? Eaugh…..  I thought I was being punked. I hoped I was being punked. I prayed that I was being punked and that the hidden cameras were going to pop out any second.  But guess what. I wasn’t. And they didn’t.  Just another day in Fayette County.  One that made me glad to only be wearing a t-shirt.  Because it’s so cheaper to replace when you rip it off as soon as you walk in the door and throw it in the trash…


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