After the guy next to me in the three seat bench departed the bus and it was clear no one else needed a seat, I slid to the open seat out of courtesy to the gal my hip was encroaching on. Not too long after, a man squeezed into the space. He complimented my shades and asked where I got them. “Target,” I said. “Are they Versace?” he asked. “No, they’re Target.”
I had hoped my short answers and attentiveness to my mobile phone would shoo him off but it was no use. He continued to ask me questions and explain he also liked whatever I just said I was into. (which just made me think of this song… oh how I miss these guys!) Though I didn’t tell him anything other than that I lived in the neighborhood, he shared his location and it happened to be just about a block north of me. I debated whether to pretend it was my stop and have him find out later I walked nearly a mile to evade him, or just suffer through the conversation and kindly blow him off when it was time to depart.
During a brief moment he wasn’t looking my way, I texted Jen and begged her to call me asap. Thankfully she did and shortly after I got up to depart the bus (while still clearly on the phone) Mr. Smooth asked, “is your number a 206 number?” and told me he was hoping to call me sometime. I mumbled something about maybe running into him and hopped off the bus. As I did I overheard him start his game on the girl seated to the other side of him. I got home and having to walk Murph, I very quickly changed out of my dress, into pants and a completely different pair of sunglasses.
That wasn’t what this post was supposed to be about, however. I have another pick up tale to share.
Earlier this week I had taken Murphy out for a walk. On our way in he had stopped to sniff something that I soon learned was dog poo. There are at least two signs in front of the condo where I’m living that clearly state it’s a dog poo free zone. I’m quite certain this makes it a giant poo target rather than an always green zone. Anyway, I have picked up dog remnants other than Murphy’s in the past but today I didn’t want to be bothered with it. A few minutes later we were getting in the elevator when a neighbor and her dog rush in the entry to tell me that my dog just went and I didn’t pick it up. Having walked Murphy at least 4 times that day waiting for him to dump already, I knew I’d have noticed if such a thing occurred and I told her I’d been waiting on it all day. I realized she probably saw him sniffing the offender’s pile and assumed it was his so I told her he stopped to sniff some. Now I still look like a jerk for leaving it there. She went on to tell me she hated to sound like a busy body but that when it’s out there all the dogless people in the building assume it belongs to the dogs in the building and alerted to the location of a scooper in the garbage area. I explained once again that it wasn’t Murphy but that I’d go clean it up anyway. She said she already has but she just wanted me to know about it. I think I would have preferred her leaving the bag at my door with a note describing my alleged offense.
A day or two later I’m once again returning from a dog walk and the elevator stops on two. I’m on 4. Not too many people downstairs ever come up here so I was curious as to who it might be. A neighbor puts one foot and a huge bag full of produce bags in the elevator. “Could you use these? I used to give them to my son but his dog died. I figured you might be able to use them.” Of course I’d rather get for free what’s ridiculous to have to pay for (and nearly impossible to open!), so I took them and thanked her. She said she’d just leave them by my door from now on when she had a few to give.
It only took me a couple of minutes to tie the incidents together and now I’m left wondering whether the neighbors had been chatting about my other run-in with the poo police. Why hadn’t she given the bags to one of the other dog owners? I very visibly carry bags on Murphy’s leash!
Looks like for at least the next few weeks I’ll be collecting some from other locales, dropping it out front and picking it up again in hopes one of them will witness my good deeds.
The Mountains Called... 