I hope none of you are first-time readers, because this is bad. I should not even write this. But you know how I am - I can't stop myself.
Today my legally blind 91-year-old Dad and I went to the pharmacy, one of those monster chain stores.
He said he needed to get "bug juice," which means, in Dad lingo, "deodorant." (The apple does not fall far from the tree, does it?)
I found the deodorant aisle. He is one of the last three people on earth to use spray deodorant.
"This one?" I asked, picking up the Right Guard that I was fairly sure I had bought him the last time he was out.
"No," he said. He also rejected all of the other brands that were there.
"Are you sure?" I asked, pretty darn sure about the Right Guard.
"That's not it."
"Well, it is on sale two for the price of one," I said, knowing that would get his attention.
Done. Two cans of Right Guard.
"I don't think it was on that aisle," he said. "I think it was in the back corner."
We trudged around the store, Dad picking up random items - pregnancy test, curling iron - and saying "No, that's not it."
"I really think they keep all the deodorant in one place," I gently suggested.
"It's here some place," he said, continuing the search.
Finally he gave up and we bought our two cans of deodorant and went home.
Mom and I were chatting in the kitchen when Dad emerged from his bathroom with a spray can.
"THIS is what I was looking for," he said, triumphantly.
"Ummmmmm.....errrrrr...." I said.
"Oh, no," Mom said softly.
I had to break it to him.
"Dad - that's not deodorant. That's generic Lysol."