Friday, January 22, 2016

City Wok

I'll be shopping with Mark and I'll see something that I need. I toss it into the  shopping cart and Mark lets out a gasp, "I can get that much cheaper. Put it back on the shelf and I'll get it for you later."  I don't know where he goes to get these cheaper things, but one thing I do know, it isn't Macy's. What he usually brings home is some kind of knock off of the product that I would have purchased for full price. A few weeks ago Mark brought home some doggy poop bags. They weren't the ones I usually buy, but they will still do the job even though he bought them at one of his off brand stores. Yesterday I was walking with Chandler, we were exactly one half way around the block when he decided to drop a load in somebody's yard. Two nice, torpedo shaped turds, solid and easy to pick up. I slipped one of the doggy poop bags over my hand and bent over to retrieve the pile of poo. As I grabbed at the turd I felt something warm and moist on my middle finger. I had poo bag break through. My finger was up to the first knuckle in dog shit. I let out a small scream and shudder as I looked around for something to wipe my finger on. The best I could do was the grass, which isn't all that effective. So for the rest of the walk I held Chandler's leash in one hand and held my other hand with the middle finger extended, out and away from my body. It's funny how you don't realize how many times you use that finger during the course of a walk around the block. My first near miss was a sneeze that I instinctively tried to shield with my right hand, the shit hand. I looked down at the smear of brown on my finger and stopped before there was any damage. Later on during the walk I developed an itch on the side of my head. Again, instinct took over and I reached up to scratch. Again, I caught myself. All this activity along with Chandler pulling me over so that he could smell the duck poop in the neighbor's yard got me confused. Had I touched any part of my body with that finger? By the time we got home I was not sure if I had dog poop on my middle finger alone, or if it had spread to my hair, to my nose, to my shirt, or to the dog leash. In my mind I was covered from head to toe in dog shit. It was quite the shitty walk.

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