I headed out to the local green grocer, bus ticket in hand. I traveled light, no purse just my wheelie cart and bank card tucked into the front of my jeans. With the lively heart of a careless traveler I skipped to the bus stop. My timing was great I stepped on to the 414 handed over my ticket received a transfer and was on my way.
Grocery Shopping can be a burden, a chore, downright unpleasant in fact. However, on this day, at this moment it was more like a break, some entertainment and the highly regarded ‘me’ time.
One block away I realized I had taken my BF’s bank card instead of mine. It’s not that I didn’t know his pin, there was just no money in his account since he had to drain it to get me out of the bad bet I made at the neighbourhood dog fight the night before. I had to get off the bus, shopping with no money was just loitering.
Off the bus and walking back to the apartment I was still happy knowing there was a number 10 bus by in just 12 minutes. I entered the apartment and the BF wanted to come with. Grabbing my bank card I said no, that’s ok stay here and rest. He was moving a bit slow due in part to the ‘mix up’ at last night’s event but the swelling had stopped. He insisted, I relented we dashed out. And by dashed I mean walked while chewing gum. To the stop I directed him, there we waited. We had missed the 10.
After 20 minutes and some huffing on my part the wise BF suggested we returned to the apartment to have something to eat. There would be another 414 in 20 minutes. Soon we were both stepping on the bus sure grateful that fiasco was over.
Off the bus it was only a 2 minute walk to the store which was good because neither the BF nor I should have been walking on our own power, both being in physical recovery of sorts. I had some day surgery earlier in the week and he the night before, as I mentioned, had to carry me out of a warehouse basement, on his shoulders while fighting off some f*cked up dudes.
Walking to the store I reached for my bank card. Checked all pockets, the wheelie cart, my bra, pockets again. He looked at me dreadfully “what are you looking for?” I didn’t have the bank card, but I did have 8 dollars in coin.
I certainly was not going to have the shopping experience I had hoped for; he was starting to limp again. There were ‘discussions’ what to do next and where did I leave the card. For a moment I thought maybe the dangerous youth on the bus took my card...out of my pocket but on reflection the thought was reaching.
We started back from the store with eight dollars of oats in the cart. We walked to catch the number 10 home. Once at the bus stop I called the ‘next bus phone line’ and was told no bus stops here. We started walking, half way between bus stops we heard the 10 roaring in the back ground. We assessed: Too far to run back, too far to make it to the next stop, plus we should not be running.
Missed the 10 walking home slowly.
He went to rest, I unpacked the oats.
Pffft.
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