National Extortion Day
Thursday afternoon, I was meandering along, trying to remember what the errand I was on, like, what was it I was supposed to pick up? It was bleary, gray day, but just warm enough to warrant shorts.
I cut through a pedestrian tunnel, into a strip center, and promptly fell on my backside. It was ugly. Nothing damaged, a little scrape on my knee, but it was horrendous blow to my pride.
I did manage to limp into the store with the cordless phone batteries, and I did manage to get 50% of the selection process correct. Which, according to the lone counter clerk, put me in the top 5% of his customers.
From there, I figured, as long as I was alongside all those trendy little shops on S. Congress, I’d better pick up a “Get out of Jail” free card.
No such luck. February 13 is too late to shop for VD cards. Maybe I’ll remember this next year.
If I hadn’t had a tumble in the mud on the concrete, though, I’d probably forgotten about the whole thing….
“Ah, c’mon, don’t you have just one card that says, ‘Oh baby, please, please, please, I’ll never forget such an important event again….’ You know, something sappy, and sweet, and it’ll even get me out of trouble for not sending it on time?”
The last time I found a perfect card like that, I bought a whole box, 24 of them, “To the only girl I ever really loved…”
