I got stopped by the crazy lady outside the MiniMart tonight. She wanted to admire my laundry cart. There's nothing special about it. We both got tired of carrying a 20-pound basket the five blocks to the laundry mat, so we went to Zellers one day and picked it up. It's your basic folding wire cart. The kind that little old ladies load up with groceries and then try to pull up the steps on the bus. Like this one:

except white. And we bought a laundry liner to go with it, so we don't lose random articles of clothing on the way. Like I said, nothing fancy.

But the crazy lady stopped me anyway. First she asked what was in it. I told her laundry, and started to walk away. Then she said, "It's very beautiful." What do you do? I told her thank you. She said it again; I told her thank you again. Then she started to say it a third time, and I said, "I got it from Zellers. Well, have a good night." Which seems heartless now, since she's probably going to spend most of her night sitting on the curb outside the MiniMart being crazy. That's what I get for being on Kingsway at 8:00pm.

Why do the crazies insist on talking to me?