Bury Me When I’m Dead and Gone…or When I Become Incontinent

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Old. People.

I spend a good part of my day dealing with senior citizens.  Most are very nice, some are cranky, and a few are downright scary.  Like the woman who drove slowly into the metal-pipe handrail at the back of my building.  I didn’t actually see her drive into it, but her car’s front bumper was bent around it in the exact shape of the pipe.  If she had BANGed into the pipe, her bumper would have had more obvious damage. Instead, it looked like she slowly worked her way up to it and then kept pressing around it.  You know…she wanted to be close to the building.  When I called this strange situation to her attention as she was leaving, she claimed her bumper had always been like that.  You know, perfectly fitting around this particular pipe structure.  Generally speaking, I wait until I’m sure she’s far away before I get into my car to go home.

Yesterday I was at the grocery store waiting on line at the checkout behind yet another kind of old people:  the funny kind.

A man and woman, either long-married or long-together, were on the checkout line in front of me.  Let’s call them Hortense and Alfred.  Hortense was unloading the cart onto the conveyor belt and Alfred was standing behind the cart, waiting mostly.  Hortense lifts a package of Pampers Pull-Ups out of the cart.

Hortense:  (speaking a little too loudly)  What’s this?

Alfred:       (taking the package from her and placing it on the belt)  I need these!   The stuff I use isn’t working right.  I’m leaking too much.

Hortense:  (taking it off the belt)  They’re for kids, not adults!

Alfred:       Yeah!  You don’t see kids dripping all over the place.  These are better.

Hortense:  (exasperated and shaking the package at Alfred)  They’re for kids!  They won’t fit you!

Alfred:       Oh, they’ll be fine!  You worry too much!

Hortense:  And they’re for girls!

Alfred:       What difference does it make!

Hortense:  Look this isn’t going to work. (handing them to Alfred)  Take them back.

Alfred:       Well, I need something…how about those things you used to use.  You know…

Hortense:  (still speaking too loudly)  What?!  You mean sanitary pads?  You can’t use those…

Alfred:       No, the other things.  The things you put inside.  They’re all over the TV now…they’re supposed to be pretty good.

Hortense:  (now, completely worked up)  Are you crazy?!!!  Where would you put those???

Alfred:       I don’t know…wherever you put them, I guess.

Hortense:  (ready to blow her stack)  …*blink*…*blink*…YOU are an idiot!  Put these back!

Alfred:      (shuffling away with the Pull-Ups and muttering) …still need something…

I was trying so, so, SO hard to not laugh throughout this transaction.  I could have moved to another checkout line, I guess, but then I would have missed all the fun.  Hortense continued to load the conveyor belt, muttering to herself.  I busied myself with a Rachael Ray magazine while she finished.  When Alfred returned, empty-handed, they finished their shopping business as though nothing odd had previously occurred.

I’ve already explained to Thunder that he should begin now thinking about where to hide my body after he puts me out of his misery.

Jul 25th, 2009

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