I swear on the Tiny Kitchen Assistant that this is a true story.
On Monday afternoon, I camped out at the coffee shop to get some work done. True, I could have worked at home, but because my trip was looming large in my brain, I was having a serious case of pre-travel ADD in which I’d keep remembering Things I Needed To Do and jumping up to take care of them. At the coffee shop, I can minimize these distractions because there’s nothing I can do but make a list and keep my butt in the chair.
A middle-aged woman approached — someone I’ve never seen before — and made one of those passing comments about how chilly it was indoors. “They probably still have the air conditioning set from Saturday,” she said. “That was brutal.”
“True,” I agreed. “106 is too hot no matter how you look at it.” I returned my gaze to my laptop as she continued talking.
“Oh, it was just awful, wasn’t it? I was out and about running my errands and there I was, outside the Container Store, when I just s**t myself.”
I had been only partially engaged in our weather banter, so imagine my head jerking to attention as I my brain scrambled to make sense of what I’d just heard. I mean, clearly I’d heard, “I just s**t myself,” but surely that must be some sort of expression, some sort of metaphor….
Not even close.
She went on in grand detail.
I won’t recap that portion of the conversation here, because frankly, I don’t feel like I need to scar you for life. But for the past day and a half, there’s only one thing I can think of.
WHY ON EARTH WOULD ANYONE SHARE THIS INFORMATION WITH A STRANGER????
Should I write that in a bigger font? Maybe in bold and all caps?
Seriously, people. Have boundaries. Or at the very least, have boundaries with me.