An accident

It was sample day. It was an accident.

Well, it being sample day wasn’t an accident; the store planned that part.

I love sample days. In fact, the first thing I do at the grocery store is to patrol the perimeter to see which areas have sample stations. I am a good sampler.

And there it was, a demo and sampler station. He was demonstrating the Vita-Mix machine. Ooh, I’ve heard about those.

I wasn’t in a hurry, so I slowed down to see what he was doing with the Vita-Mix. In just the blink of an eye, he made tortilla soup. He made strawberry sorbet. He made two other things while I was standing there, taking it all in visually and slurping it all in physically. All this in a matter of minutes and that included the clean up between demos.

Very impressive.

So then I asked him if someone like him came with the machine. My thinking was that it’s all very nice to obtain appliance after appliance that is supposed to lessen one’s kitchen chores, but the best way of all is to get someone else to take care of kitchen duty entirely. (I haven’t been successful in abdicating my kitchen duties, but I’m trying.)

He laughed and said that no, no mini-him came with the machine. Did I notice a twinkle in his eye when he laughed?

It occurred to me that maybe he thought I was flirting with him, asking if he came with the machine. Oops. Accidental flirting. I just hate it when that happens. (Intentional flirting is one thing, but accidental flirting is just the worst.) How embarrassing.

I remember one of my friends leaning over to me not so long ago in a restaurant, saying that she thought “that guy over there” was interested in me. If he is, I told her without looking up from the menu, he’s probably looking for an older woman for his grandfather or a younger woman for his great-grandfather. I mean, I just don’t flirt. I’m too tired from cooking and cleaning.