I Can't Hear You

I feel bad ignoring people. I know you think of me as a caustic bitch, but that's only on the inside. On the outside, I do manage to project a distant semblance of approachability.

So when the kindly old man with the missing teeth roped me into conversation in the Trader Joe's pre-made salad aisle, I couldn't turn away. For some reason, he felt it necessary to share his Adventures in Rest Home Shopping. He was appalled that one place admitted to him that they don't feed their guests but once a day. It was a sad tale.

But why I was the one on the receiving end of that conversation is beyond me. I wasn't even smiling. I was grimacing at the pre-made salads. There was too little variety. And all I wanted was to get home. I had just accidentally smacked my thumb, so I was in less than a chipper mood. And also, poor salad selection.

It was enough to make a shopper batty.

I'm thinking that my only options to avoid this scenario in the future are:
1. walking around with a monkey on my shoulder that will howl loudly at anyone who attempts conversation,
2. pretending not to speak English,
3. or just keeping my iPod headphones in my ears.

Monkeys are messy and worse than children, and I hate using the Immigrant Card, so I'll probably opt for the iPod. But I could change my mind.

Notice none of these solutions includes avoiding the pre-made salad aisle. Dear god, no. Because even though that's where the old man trolls live, it would require making my own salads. And that's just not going to happen.

Because on top of everything else, I'm also a lazy caustic bitch.