Sunday, February 28, 2016

"Gary, Get your Hands Out of your Pants!"

I'm nearing the decision to not take Gary to the store with me anymore.  It is too stressful.  It is my problem, not his but I just hate it.  My spontaneous nature hates the idea of having to plan ahead for every little thing. 

I only needed milk and some vegetable to make spaghetti sauce.  My thoughts centered around the fact that all we had to do was run in the store.....right.

Here is a breakdown of the events once entering the store parking lot.  "Honey, what are we buying?'' I told him.  It took me walking around to the passenger side, taking his arm, coaching him to put out both feet and put them on the ground and tugging hard to get him out of the car.  At a snails pace, we stopped to get a shopping cart as I thought if he drove and I walked beside him I could go faster.  Why do faster, Ada?  Well, I don't want to spend the WHOLE day in the store, that's why.

The walking-beside-me idea did not work as we approached the dreaded Girl Scout Cookie exhibit.  Of course, he had to stop and inquire.  The sweet little girls do not understand when the mean old lady (me) would not let the nice old man buy cookies.

We went into the store and I strategically planned our route to get to the milk the fastest.  Gary's shirt was untucked from his sweatpants.  Oh No!  I knew he would soon discover this and start tucking his shirt in his pants.  Imagine the old man walking through the store with both hands down his pants moving them rapidly to tuck in his shirt.  It looks like other things to the untrained eye.  I knew it was coming.

"Gary, hold on to the buggy while we go through the store.  Gary, stay with me.  Gary follow me.  Gary hold on to my belt loop.  Gary, don't pull down my jeans.  Honey, take your hands out of your pants, your shirt-tail is tucked in fine.  Gary, stop tying and untying your pants!  Gary. take your hands out of your pants, Gary. Gary."  I noticed a man standing nearby staring at us.  He had overheard this bantering and Gary's response to each.  He scowled at me.  HE SCOWLED AT ME!

I wanted to scream at Him, "if you can do better, come over here and train me! Have you ever done this?  "  A nasty name came to mind but I zipped my mouth and only thought of him as an anal orifice.

Nearing the check out counter, I noticed the cashier is one who has helped us before and smiled quietly as Gary read all the names of the candy bars, signs and specials.  Today was no different.  The cashier asked, "How are we today?"  My guttural response was, "I am stressed, thank you."  He glanced at Gary as if to say, "no wonder." 

We finished the transaction and started our way back to the car.  "Gary, walk beside me and help guide the cart."  He did, but pulled so strongly that the cart started to make a circle into the lady walking next to us.  I corrected the turn with one hand and it hurt.  (Old injury from sailing).

We made it to the car after nearly dragging Gary across the parking lot.  I put him in the passenger side and closed to door.  Suddenly, I remembered the events at the airport over Christmas when he locked me out of the car.  I grabbed my keys and loaded the groceries.  Just leaving him long enough to walk the cart to the drop off area is stressful. 

Once back in the car, he asked if we were going into the store now.  The ride home was quiet and he is now sleeping in the massage chair.  Whew!

One more freedom that has to be compartmentalized into a schedule. 

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