Tenth Musee

Sunday morning I went to Target.  That’s my usual Sunday morning destination. I like to get in there before it gets busy, when it’s still quiet and the shelves are full.  It’s kind of like church, staring at rows upon rows of Glade CandleScents or fabric softener or whatever.  This Sunday it was shampoo that had me enraptured. I was trying to decide between color-protection and curl-care when I was approached by a very tall, imposing, but non-threatening, Pacific-Islander looking guy with a wiley quasi-fro and a newspaper open in front of him.

“Excuse me”, he said, “Have you found Jesus?”

I said, smiling, “I wasn’t aware he was missing. Did you check with customer service?”

He kind of furrowed his brow for a sec, then his face burst into this huge grin and he said, “You know, that’s the best ‘no’ I’ve heard all day. Hey, do you know what time the Eagles game starts?” He didn’t miss a beat.

“I’m not a sports fan, really” I said, as I started to inch down the aisle in that “yeah, great, it’s been real, best of luck to you” kind of way.

And he replies, “That’s what Sundays are made for!” and walked off.

I never did figure out why he had the newspaper open in front of him. I’m guessing it was the sports section, I just didn’t want to look.

Sunday morning, I was up super early and ran out to the grocery store to pick up some peppermint extract. (I hand-rolled 100 homemade chocolate truffles in 4 different flavors. Go on, call me Bree again. .) Afterward, I realized it was only about 10 minutes until Target opened, so I pulled into the parking lot and waited. I needed some jellyroll pans.

About 7 minutes till opening, I decided to get out and stretch my legs while other shoppers started to congregate around the front doors.I sauntered up after them and milled around the front door with a brood of moms I would not want to mess with. Those women were there for a Wii and by god, they were going to get one. They all had their running shoes and game faces on.  I was actually a little concerned. I felt the need to let them know I had no interest in Wii and wish them luck lest they think me opposition and beat me down on my way to the cookie sheets.

There was another man standing near me who looked kind of like a cross between a weathered fisherman and Burgess Meredith in Rocky.  Standing about 5 feet away and without us making any eye contact whatsoever, he suddenly turns to me and says, “I like your coat. I used to have a coat just like that.”

“Thank you,” I said and smiled.  Wrong answer.

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