...I just need to say, "It's really, really NOT my fault that I gave an innocent man a heart attack over the weekend!"
Mr. Jenny and I made a big step last week and traded his fancy, schmancy older car in for a pick-up.
So when Mr. Jenny said he'd meet me curbside at the busy grocery store this weekend, we went there in our new ride.
The store was insanely busy.
By the time I was done grabbing the final few items I needed I was pretty frazzled...
...when I gave a strange guy a heart attack...
I was truly, truly not responsible.
It wasn't REALLY my fault.
I saw a white truck at the curb...
I opened the passenger door...
I started to throw my purse into the front seat...
...and then I glanced up...
...to see a very, very astonished man!
His mouth was open in a perfect oval of shock and surprise.
And he WASN'T Mr. Jenny.
"Ummm...Ummm," I blurted. "Wrong white truck! Sorry!"
See what I mean?
I'm not accountable for scaring this guy half to death!
I can see him now telling the story, "So, yeah, this crazy looking woman with her hair all sticking up burst into the cab of my truck...I was sure it was truck-jacking...I mean...she was scary looking!"
I cannot be held accountable for scaring the poor guy.
What was he thinking anyway?
Buying a white truck in Arizona?