Sunday, March 22, 2015

Crop Dusting

“Today was so fun. And btw…old ladies should not be crop dusting.”

This was the text I received from my BFF Lyteyz this afternoon. While I knew that, yes, today was so fun, I really was at a loss as to what crop dusting old ladies had to do with it. Maybe it was a secret code we came up with today at lunch and I somehow had forgotten it? I was sorely tempted to respond, “Oh yes- and the crow flies at midnight!” showing her that I, too, could be cryptic with secret handshakes and stuff. But then I figured that midnight flying crows may be code for lady parts or something equally embarrassing we may have discussed while out in public today. I was wondering why those people kept looking at us funny. (Note to self: be conscious of volume level when discussing lady parts with Lyteyz.)

So I responded, “Today was very fun! Ummmm…..ok. I’ll take your word for it……” because today was VERY fun- we happened to go yarn shopping (!!)- and because I truly had no opinion on whether or not old ladies should crop dust. I mean, if they are still flying airplanes in their old age and haven’t died yet from all the chemicals they’re spreading over our food, then more power to them. I guess?

“Oh gosh. Was that you?!?!?!?!”

Ahhh….the penny dropped. It was an inside joke she had with another friend and thought it was with me. Silly Lyteyz. How do I gently let her know her memory is failing in her old age and that she had better not mix me up with another friend again because I’d cut her. Wait. Was she saying she was the old lady and was considering taking up crop dusting? Did I totally space out on our conversation today? Am I the old lady? I’ve never flown a plane before, though. Or had I and I forgot about that, too? Crap. I’m getting old.

“I may be old but I’ve never crop dusted before.” Was my diplomatic reply.

I was wracking my brains going over the events of today. A local LYS is moving to a new location so they are having an AMAZING sale clearing out the stock they will no longer carry at the new location. So, of course I and my enabler BFF had to go since there is still some yarn in this world that we do not own. Besides. There is still some room in my kids’ bedrooms for me to stuff some yarn. They’re still young and flexible- they can sleep in the bathtub.

We went around the store, sniffing, petting, and rubbing the yarn all over our faces while saying appropriate things like, “Baaaaby,” and, “Ooooooo….mama like.” Maybe it was here that Lyteyz had a conversation about crop dusting with some strange woman and just thought it was me since she was so very distracted by the woolly goodness all around. I can’t blame her. I was drooling with my tongue lolling out while in my happy place, too.

I remember I was snorting some wool and started smelling something…a little off...and thought that perhaps this yarn wasn’t as clean as some others. Was there still some manure stuck to it?

I looked up at Lyteyz and she was making a weird face and motioned me to come over so I tried coming down from my wool high and floated on the fumes towards her and was nearly knocked over by an old woman who looked like she was trying to escape the aisle Lyteyz was in. That’s when I noticed the fumes I was floating on started to really turn sour. What exactly was in this wool??

And then it hit me. Like a brick wall. It totally stopped me in my tracks, made my lungs stop working, my eyes started watering, and my hair started falling out. I’m pretty sure something died in someone’s colon and was trying to escape. I thought it might have been Lyteyz and she was calling me over as some cruel joke- a yarn store Dutch oven, as it were. Then I noticed that she wasn’t motioning me over, she was fanning her nose and trying to escape. I beat her to the punch and returned to my happy spot to shove a few skeins of yarn up my nostrils to save them from the Fart Wall of Death that had just ambushed me. OH DEAR GOD- I WANT TO LIVE!!!

“Um. What’s funny is just when I walked over there this old lady booked it across the room. You did smell that right? Cause I thought you made a face the same time I did.” She text back.

And that’s when the second penny dropped. CROP DUSTING. That old lady that almost knocked me down- SHE WAS THE CROP DUSTER!! And I was crop dusted!! I am torn between hoping she made it to the hospital before succumbing to whatever festering rot she had up her butt, or hoping she didn’t make it and suffered a slow, painful death for making my face turn inside out and skin to melt off.

*SHUDDER*

Dude. Lyteyz is right. Old ladies should not be crop dusting. Especially not in a yarn store. THINK OF THE WOOL, LADIES!!



6 comments:

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