More Evidence of Brain Cell Leakage

I like to laugh. This past week, I had lots of opportunity to laugh. At myself. I still keep getting the giggles every couple of hours.

A couple of days ago, a friend called. She needed a phone number rather quickly and asked if I had it. I assured her I did and pulled out my church directory. I searched and searched. It wasn't there. I pulled out a different church directory. More searching. Still not there. I was growing concerned about why a family who has been attending our church for several years was not listed in the directory. Then I remembered. The church directory is organized by last name, not first name....details....Do grown-ups actually forget this? Yeah, I didn't think so. My friend must have been rather concerned at how long it took me to find the number. I know I still am.

Last night, I was in a rush to complete some errands that had been put off due to our car taking another ride on the back of a tow truck. I made it through the store and needed just one more thing. Dish soap. I looked and looked and looked. I was buying it at Target and I usually buy it at Walmart. I couldn't find it. I had this horrifically squeaky cart and after I circled household products for 10 minutes with my deafeningly noisy cart, people were staring at me and Target employees were looking concerned. One couple actually glanced over their shoulders and took a quick detour away from me because I had ended up behind them for a noticeably long time. I finally asked a Target employee where the dish soap was. Here is an actual transcript of that interaction:

Me: Ummmm, c-c-c-can you tell me where the.......uh, ummm....oh, what is it....ummm.....th-th-the dish soap is?

Target Employee: (bright smile, kind eyes full of compassion) Are you having a bad day?

Me: Ummm....no....errrr....yeah, I guess I am.

Target Employee: The dish soap is over by the laundry detergent.

Me: Oh, I looked there. I guess I didn't look hard enough. (I then heard wild laughter that startled both of us. Unfortunately, it was coming from me.)

Target Employee: (compassionate eyes became even more compassionate) I'll just walk over there with you.

Me: Oh, OK. (We begin the walk. In an attempt to salvage what was left of my dignity, I tried to speak again, this time without a stutter or maniacal laughter.) This cart is just so squeaky and I looked for the soap for awhile, so I'm sure people were wondering, 'What is her doing?'

Me: (in my head only) What on EARTH did you just say, Patti? What is HER doing? Who says that? Is there a shelf you can crawl under? Oh, I hope the rapture is now. What is HER doing? Nobody but Mater speaks that way.

Target Employee: (She did not speak again. I suspect she was either holding in laughter or trying to get away from me as quickly as possible. I know I was holding in laughter and trying to get away from myself at that moment.)

I made it to the car eventually, with dish soap, and collapsed in a heap of giggles. In my defense, I do think I was trying to say, "What is she doing?" or "What is her problem?" and they just became tragically mixed together.