Friday, no Saturday, was food shopping day. I pulled into a space in the parking lot, opened the door, and saw what looked like sand-over-dried-crud on the ground. Sighing, I carefully placed my feet so as not to touch it and hauled my heavy self out of the car.
"Yuck, dried vomit," I said.
"Spilled drink," countered the husband. "It's all over here, too."
I thought about moving the car, but let the moment past. I took out the grocery bags from the back seat and as I slammed the door I saw another one behind the passenger's seat.
"Can you get that bag on your side, please?"
The husband did, which meant first opening the front door, next unlocking the back door, and then fetching the bag with his bum arm.
Now flash forward about 25 minutes. After loading our bags into the trunk, the husband and I noticed the front passenger side door wide open.
"Did I leave that open?" he asked at the same time I asked "Did you leave it open?"
Nothing was taken. But, then, why would anyone want to even touch the mess in the back seat. Yeah, we're those kind of people.
As we started to get into the car, a woman in a red SUV leaned out her window. "Excuse me," she said. "Your door was open when we got here. We didn't want to touch it. So, we decided to wait here and watch your car until someone came."
We thanked them. I said, to my surprise, "That was very sweet of you." The woman gave me a look of surprise in return. An unexpected little-old-lady response of gratitude, I suppose.
So there you have it. The husband forgetting to close the car door in a parking lot and me saying little old lady things. Two a-little-bit-more old rooty-toot fogeys.
Heaven help us. Please.