Mop struck

I went to my favorite big box retailer over the lunch hour to buy wax paper. That’s it. One box of wax paper. Had I not wanted a microwaved baked potato for supper, I would not have gone to the store and now it would not hurt to cough, sneeze or reach from left to right.

As I was leaving the store with my box of wax paper, a bicyclist rolling down the sidewalk and carrying a mop across the top of the handlebars misjudged the width of his load and whacked me hard with the handle of the mop, impact occurring in the, uh, upper ribs region, an area you have to be careful about grabbing while standing outside a reputable establishment.

The guy didn’t stop. I assume the fact that the tip of his mop wasn’t bloodied was enough to tell him no harm was really done.