Sometimes, I’m kind of a moron. I mean, pretty frequently, actually. I’m about to disclose an experience that I had on Saturday when I arrived at the post office to mail my school pictures to my madre. Don’t leave a comment telling me I’m stupid. I already know. Here it goes. I pulled into the stall next to the handicapped spot. I got out and started walking in with my stuff to mail. In the handi spot, an old man in a Buick was sitting in his passenger seat with the window down. It looked like he was maybe waiting for his wife who was inside the post office (strategery #1). He was really old, as in like 80 years old (strategery #2). He stopped me. He seemed harmless and sweet enough, and my mom taught me to be nice and respectful, so I was. I stopped and talked to him. He started with, “I bet your husband’s handsome!” (strategery #3) I responded, “I don’t have a husband.” He looked at me in shock. He then asked how old I am. I told him I am twenty-two. He said, “Well maybe you’ll find...
Comments