One handed, scrolling her cell, she strolls in front of me outside with her grocery cart; beautiful day for sauntering along, after all, is it not? Sharp, rusty-sounding turn, ramming my way around her and keeping my rude comment to myself, I peel to my car with my cart in a panic after having to resort to my credit card.

I’m wearing a sundress, my knee’s on the seat, car door’s wide open. I’m pretty much up-side-down—my everything on display—I do not find the debit card. I throw off the sunglasses, look again.

Back to gas station to discover an honest human has turned in my card. I’m doing the pee dance, cash attendant smiles and points to the relief room. On my way home, driver jumps on brakes to avoid hitting a bug or something, forcing me to do the same. Open purse falls to floor and I hear all my necessary junk spill out. Deep breath, ignore, pay attention to traffic.

Once I’m home, I pick up my necessary junk, cram it unceremoniously into my purse and unload groceries. I’m on the fourteenth and final stair when I lose my grip on a bag handle and food rolls and bounces all the way down. Two cats chase it and marvel at this new game.

Next time I find ten bucks in my husband’s jean shorts while doing laundry I will keep it, yes I will; however, I will not laugh at him and wave it in the air like a trophy, because that my friends, creates punishment due to me.

© L. P. Penner, 2015


4 thoughts on “PUNISHMENT DUE TO ME

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