I was really looking forward to three days of catching up on two of my favourite three things beginning with an S this long weekend.
[no prizes for guessing what the third S stands for … and it ain’t shopping *wink wink*]
Sadly, that was not to be. My dear upstairs neighbour, in all wisdom; decided to murder his daughter at 08h00 on Friday morning and thereafter pickaxe his way into the concrete floors in order to hide her dismembered body.
Well, that’s what it sounded like. According to Krishna, he was renovating the bathrooms, chipping off the wall and floor tiles. That’s his story – however I haven’t seen his daughter in a week. Jussayin’.
By Saturday afternoon I had a pounding headache that beat in time to the banging upstairs, and so I decided to head to the mall in order to kill time and not my neighbour.
Once at the local center, I started at Dischem to get my monthly chronic meds, a bottle of flavoured water and energy bar. Thereafter I headed to Mr Price for a spot of window shopping.
I headed straight for rack of dresses and sifted through to locate my size. Whilst looking for an S, an elderly gentleman asked if I could reach for a dress on the top rack for him. I fetched the first one on the rail and handed it to him and he immediately asked for a different size. Being the helpful young lady I am, I put the original dress back and looked for an L.
Finding one, I brought it down and gave it him. He ummed and ahed and asked if there wasn’t perhaps an XL. With a bit of a sigh, I reached up again and sifted through the tightly packed dresses in search of an XL. Finally locating one, I handed over to the old man.
Still he wasn’t happy with the dress, and exasperated that my window shopping was being cut short by playing shop assistant to an ungratefully shopper, I said;
“I’m sorry, but I don’t work here!”
And with that I marched off to another section of the store in order to browse in peace.
No sooner had I found a quiet spot, when a genuine sales ladies approached me.
“Sorry ma’am. Do you have still have everything in your handbag?“
“Huh? Ja … I’m sure …“
I pulled my handbag to my (flat) belly [thanks to Bums and Tums classes at gym] and noticed that my bag [not Elle Vie – she has regretfully retired from service] was zipped half way open; and I knew that on leaving Dischem that I had ensured that it was fully zipped closed.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of my tummy, I reached into my bag; I saw the dim light of my BB and silently thanked the gods. I reached deeper into the darker depths and another than my car keys and glasses; the bag was empty.
Elle Vietjie, carrier of my life; was gone!