Groceries

After putzing around all weekend, I finally went to the grocery store late Sunday afternoon.

I live about four blocks from the grocery store, so I have one of those dorky "granny-carts" to carry my groceries home in. However, I don't want to look completely dorky or granny-like, so I pull it behind me with one hand on two wheels, rather than like a little old lady slowly pushing it in front of her.

Anyway, it's summertime which means that each of my grocery excursions require the purchase of a watermelon.
I'm from the South.
It's what we do.

So, I'm heading back with my groceries in the granny-cart along with the watermelon in the bottom of the cart. I pass by these homeless guys drinking beer on the sidewalk and I hear one of them say:
"OOooo. Look at that watermelon! That reminds me of the South! I just need me some fried chicken and some hot sauce!"

That's the third time a homeless man has commented on the watermelon in my granny-cart! What is it about seeing a watermelon in my granny-cart that elicits such blatant comments?? Now I know how women feel when whistled at by construction workers.

Next time, I don't think I'm going to let it go.

I envision myself spinning around and saying, "Yes! It is, indeed, a watermelon. I AM from the South and I like watermelon! It is also a seedless watermelon, buddy! What do you think of that? I'm also going to turn this here watermelon into a faaabulous sorbet! And you can't have any! You got a problem with that? HUH?"

Or, I'll probably just cloak the watermelon in a plastic bag so they'll leave me and my watermelon alone.