Remember today, when I was taking my trash out, and my bag ripped? And alllllllllllll that garbage came spewing out and then blew all over the sidewalk, thanks to the friggin' WIND I've been so damn happy about? And then my dogs got all excited and started going batshit crazy chasing the flying garbage around and yanked their leashes out of my hand, and I was running after them and screaming at them to come back and DROP THAT! while simultaneously picking up the pieces of trash? And you were walking by with YOUR dog, who was leashed and well-behaved?
Was it REALLY necessary to pause briefly and tell me, "I think your bag ripped!"
You think so, do you? Do you REALLYYYY think my bag ripped? What was your first clue? The white kitchen bag with the ripped out bottom sticking to the tree by the dumpster? Or was it the empty soup can hanging out of my dog's mouth? The toilet paper rolls and coffee filters blowing across the street, maybe?
Oooh! OOH! I know!! Was it the fact that I WAS PICKING UP THE GARBAGE that turned the dimming lightbulb on over your head?
I cannot TELL you how HELPFUL your observation was. There I was, running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, trying to wrangle two stupid dogs and a bunch of trash, with NO DAMN IDEA of why I was doing it.
You, sir, are my Knight in Shining Armor. I will forever be in your debt.