On the way home, I stopped at O’Reilly’s to inquire about car parts.  At Valley Truck and Tire, I filled up the propane tank I’d been hauling around so I could take it out of the car upon my return home.  As I did so, I realized I’d talked with seventeen people.

Seventeen.  Not the people to whom I’d just said hello, but those with whom I’d exchanged some light banter.  The restaurant and the parts store only offered up a single person each in the roles of waitress and cashier.  At the coffee shop, I ordered from the cashier, talked briefly with the couple at the table next to me, and then the person who came after.

At the grocery store, I told the aisle person she looked like a kid playing on the floor with all her shelf tags askew beside her.  A young man called my name and reminded me of our meeting at the elementary school the week before.  We talked about the parenting tips the speaker offered and our amateur attempts at the use thereof.

As I negotiated my cart down another aisle, I recognized an older gentleman, as did he me.  “Do you go to Holy Cross?” I inquired.  Eventually we realized that it was not from church but from the coffee shop that we had so often seen each other.  He slapped me on the shoulder as he continued on.

I verified with a fellow in the bread section that the 2-for-1 tags really applied to the loaves I wished to buy.  In the butcher counter, I asked where to find the whole chickens, as a soup was on my agenda.  He went back to search, eventually returning with the bad news.  In the produce area, another woman was looking at the lettuce.  “There’s no price,” I observed.  Together we tracked down a stocking employee, who had to go up to the cashiers to determine the price of $1.99.  To rich for me, I decided, as I headed to the bagged lettuce area.  “Yeah, the 2-for-1 deal on the Fresh Express is probably your best choice,” he advised.

I did the usual chit chat with the cashier.  Upon perusing my receipt, I saw that the price of one item was less than the proffered price on my emailed shopping list from the company’s website.  I showed my smartphone screen to another employee and, forgoing the refund, asked if he could fix it in their system.

I recognized the owner of the Truck supply and propane shop.  “You’re the same shop that used to be back on the other side of the boulevard, aren’t you?  I bought a used lumber rack from you.”

“We’ve been here for two years.  Where have you been?” he said.  I left my tank with an employee, checking in with him later when it was done.