On going to town.

Life on the Arctic Tundra continues today with wind and extremely cold temperatures. Yesterday I thought I would escape and go to town.  Aside from a terrific lunch with my friend...it didn't go as planned.

I endured what could be described as a "haircut" only in the academic sense. I ended up looking like a barbie doll after the kids took the scissors to her.  I'm not sure what I expected from a $13 cut-n-fluff from the NotSoSuperDuperCuts. But let's just say that I no longer have a pony tail.

Then I had a terrible experience in a too small dressing room involving some kind of sham fashion trend knows as "jeggings." I ended up with a bad paper cut and a very real fear that they would need to call security and use the Jaws of Life to get me out of the aforementioned "jeggings." I was, in fact, a fashion victim.

By the time I got home I was in a sorry state. Fortunately my husband knew to blurt out, "Wow! Your new haircut is really cute!" with the right amount of sincerity to ensure that I still made him dinner. The dogs looked at me confused. I feel confused without my pony tail.

Which leads me to this, my real tale about going to town. It's only because my defenses are down that I am relaying this episode of Why You Can't Take Me Anywhere.

The main reason that we had go to town last week was to get my husband's paycheck. For a lot of stupid reasons it was late. But we needed to get some supplies so we got it cashed and did our errands. The next morning The Big Man handed me a fat pile of hundred dolla billz, y'all and told me to take it to the bank. OK fine.

So I roared into town, flung open the truck door, and jumped down just in time to be blasted by a big whoosh of wind.... and I dropped everything in my hands.

Money... money flying everywhere.... Everything in my check book all over the street....

"BAH!" I screamed and tried to grab everything. But you know how it's hard to hold stuff and pick up other stuff especially when the wind is blowing everything around? It was like being in one of those money grabbing machines they have at the fair.

I had no choice but to start hopping around stomping on the money with my farmy boots. Just as soon as I got one under my dirty boot I'd snatch it up and hop around trying to get something else. Money. Receipts. Coupons. Flying all over the street.

One job. I had one job. 

Finally I had it all and walked, shamefully, into the bank with my hands full of muddy, poopy money. The teller glared at me but took the deposit.

I skulked over to the feed store. Predictably they started laughing as soon as I walked in.

"How you doin', OFG?" Asked the owner.

"Well, you know how it is, Earl." I said trying to avoid explaining just what happened.

"No. No, OFG I don't know how it is with you... ever." He smiled indicating that I should go on.

Gingerly I held out a soggy, poopy, oily, muddy hundred dolla bill by the one dry corner.

"Oh." He said. "So you've been..."

"Sh!t stompin' the benjamins. Yes, Earl, that's what I've been doing." And then I explained the whole affair.

"You know you could have always just used the drive-thru at the bank, OFG" Said Captain Obvious who was now using a paper towel to wipe off that poor hundred dolla bill.

"Yes, yes I realize that. Thank you, Earl."

I remember a while ago I read a statistic that most of the hundred dollar bills in this country have traces of drugs on them.

Not here.

Consider this a Public Service Announcement  to always wash your hands after handling money. Especially if you live in a rural area. There is no telling what fool tried to make a deposit and ended up chasing money all over the street.

And that is just another reason why you can't take me anywhere. But based on my latest misadventures in town the next time I have a reason to go off farm.. I might just stay home.

Happy Thursday everyone!  Have you been to town lately? How'd it go?