Time for shopping or time for a nap?
Jan 28, 2009 | 842 views | 0 0 comments | 21 21 recommendations | email to a friend | print
My Cave, My View by Gary Torres



I am not sure if I am getting old or just hate shopping; maybe both. 



I find more and more often that when I go shopping with my too kind and loving wife that instead of shopping, I would rather go out to the car and take a nap. 



Did you know that it is illegal in some towns to sleep in your car?  Sure you can shower in the public bathroom; but don’t take a nap in your car or we will haul your sorry old behind to jail.



At first I tried to nap in the store on the bench, but people kept throwing their change in my lap and waking me up. 



Once my sleep was so deep that I snorted and woke myself up.  One nice lady gave me directions to the homeless shelter. 



Sometimes security doesn’t think too much of me sleeping on their bench.  Frankly, they can fly a kite. 



First, just how much training do Wal-Mart guards have?  And besides I resent them trying to talk to me in Spanish.  “Oye Hombre.”  Which I think is “Hey Dude.” “You can’t sleep here.” 



My Spanish is limited; but I know enough swear words to tell them to find someone else to profile.



Besides, I think I could pretty much take the senior citizen with the badge, okay?  I am not sure; because he has a cane and probably knows how to use it, but; on the other hand if I start a fight by the time the other senior guard waddles down from the other end of the store, I would be long gone. 



The senior guard hopping along with his walker is slower than Cosmo running into a Monticello head wind.  Besides, if Cane- Guard messes with me, I’ll just make a few calls on my cell phone and fibrillate his pace maker and then shock him with the Portable Electrical Induction Ventricular Fibrillation Resuscitation Gizmo.  That should induce a coma like nap faster than a talk by a High Councilman on the evils of tobacco.



Besides, my wife spends several hundred dollars an hour while she is shopping; so I would think it is in Wal-Mart’s best interest to keep me happily asleep, drooling on my coat, while my too kind and loving wife is piling stuff in her cart. 



Honestly, I don’t think it would have been that hard for her to cross the plains in a handcart. 



I have seen her pack four kids and three carts heaped to the ceiling without even being a snot to the checker-outer lady. 



I can’t even not be a snot when I am asleep (I am unsure about the double negative in this sentence, but if Mick can make a million singing “I can’t get no satisfaction” I have decided to leave it in and let our readers decide just how stupid I am).



Daniel likes to shop with me more than his mother.  When I shop I am in such a hurry to get out of the store that anything he throws in the cart I usually just buy so I can leave. 



My too kind and loving wife wants to shop for whatever it is that Daniel needs.  If he needs shoes, my too kind and loving wife can visit ten stores before she makes a decision.  Daniel is ready to leave after one store. 



I would rather go barefoot on nails before going shopping for shoes.  I don’t actually know where my shoes come from.  When I used to run marathons, I knew, because my “every-day-shoes” were just my old running shoes; now I think my wife puts them in my closet so I won’t wear my old running shoes with Dockers; apparently, a fashion statement that clashes with my hip soul patch which is entirely gray.



Last time I went to the big Wally World Emporium, I actually walked around a little to see if there were other old people taking naps in their cars.  I found several! 



Just for chuckles I slapped the hood really loud on a couple just to see them jump.  Besides, if it is illegal to sleep in your car in some towns; perhaps I am saving them from their first run in with the law. 



Napping in your car is probably a gateway crime and before you know it they are robbing liquor stores.  I’ll save ya a spot on the bench; perhaps we can complain about how the “kids these days” wear their pants.
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