Day 17
Sometimes I wish I was in a Western.
Just now someone pushed in front of me at the supermarket; they had a lot of stuff, too. When I drove the delivery truck I got my own veg and didn’t go to the supermarket, so I don’t know what to do. What do you do? Do you ask them not to? That they can wait to pay for their frozen three veg, that I’ve got the fresh stuff, anyway?
Supermarket etiquette continues to be beyond me, purely for it’s ambiguity and seemingly lack of presence. The ticket thing at the deli – I like that. That makes sense.
I wish I had a gun. And a horse; I was that guy in Has Gun, Will Travel. I’m not sure of his name. I watch it with the sound off it’s better like that. Like when I listen to the Arabic radio. It’s soothing I think.
I think people have trouble understanding. I have trouble understanding. It’s enjoyable, sometimes, I think, to know that we don’t know it all. That’s why I watch Westerns with the sound off. Plus, they’re my cowboys, right, if I can stop them speaking?
They wouldn’t push in front of me at the supermarket if I was a cowboy, my veg thrown over the back of my horse and a whip where I’m holding the baguette. Or if we were in a cowboy show. I could have paused him. I’m ruthless with the remote. I could have paused him or paused and unpaused to make him slow-mo.
I am back at my car and still trying to work out what to say to this guy. If only I had paused him.