Tracy and I have set out on our marathon agenda this bright warm sunny March Saturday morning. We have been housebound, winterbound…except for necessities like medical stuff and the like… The snow has not even melted completely, but there is a smell of hope and spring in the air.
We have already done lunch, haircuts, TJ Maxx, and Big Lots, covered an acre of territory and now we are attacking Home Depot. Having tucked Tracy’s kitchen floor time samples into our basket and checked out appliances, we have moved onto the happy part of our trek; the garden department. I have filled the cart with bags of summer bulbs, dahlias, elephant ears, caladium, with thoughts of coming garden delights. Then we move onto the place where they display indoor plants, electric purple orchids and a range of greenery. I have removed my jacket, light weight as it is, because it has become so warm, nearly sixty where it has been in the teens for so long. My baggy magenta sweater is warm enough for now.
Tracy spots a display of those spiral fake bamboo plants that are really engineered Shefflera cuttings that are supposed to be good luck, and we need to check the price because the nearby dollar store has them for three dollars.
So, excited, I reach up spontaneously to that top shelf for the price tag, reach up over the display of tiny cacti babies in two inch plastic pots. In a moment a dozen of the cacti leap up and grab my sweater, right there under my upper arm. Ouch.
Immediately Tracy and I begin attempting to remove the little spiny plants which have come loose from their little plastic homes…Home Depot is notorious for neglecting to water their plants and the dry crumbly earth releases them easily…the problem is that they are CACTI, and as such are impossible to grasp without pain and injury. I must keep my arm raised, for to lower it would engage the plants and their spines with yet another part of my sweater and body. My arm is tiring. We begin to giggle. Soon, our giggles morph into guffaws complete with tears running down our faces. It becomes impossible to do anything at all, but laugh.
Finally, finally, worried that store personnel may appear suddenly with stern censure and who knows what retribution in mind, we manage between chortles to loosen the poor plants and return them to their little pots. Now Tracy begins to remove the small white spines, one by one, from my sweater. As she pulls them off they flutter to the ground. We believe. But there has been static electricity going on.
Now they are all attached to my rear end. Tracy is now pulling them off the seat of my pants.
We are exhausted from laughing.