The other day, whilst wading through the masses in our nearby mall, I saw an elderly lady leaving the store I was heading into.
Instead of waiting for her to push the glass door, I did the gentlemanly thing and held it open for her.
She looked at me with a bright smile and said:
"What a lovely young man. Thank you."
For whatever unknown reason, my brain decided that was the right moment to misfire, and what came out of my mouth was nothing short of an abomination.
What I should have said was:
"That's no bother at all, love."
What I ended up saying was:
"I wish my grandmother thought that."
**Shudders just recounting the memory**
I honestly don't know what I was thinking — if I was even thinking at all. Why the hell would I say that? WHY DID I SAY THAT?!
My nan doesn't even hate me.
We have a great relationship.
I just… discombobulated… for no good reason. I mean, it's not like I haven't held open a thousand doors for strangers in my lifetime, so what gave there?
It cannot be a lack of sleep because I've long grown accustomed to broken nights.
It can't be that my mind was busy thinking of something else because it wasn't.
I don't bloody know. All I do know is I remember walking into that store thinking…
KILL. ME. NOW.
What should have been a simple exchange turned into a ground-swallow-me-up moment that took hours to shake off.
It's encounters like this that remind me why I much prefer writing.
Unlike having to spin up a reply on the spot, I'm able to slow my thoughts down and package them into something semi-coherent.
Some of these thoughts end up as social media posts.
Other times, they end up in these emails.
And when I've really got something I want to share with the world?
Well, they end up here at my Storehouse:
https://www.djjwatsonstore.com
DJJW