Originally Posted by
PennyQuilts
Husband remembers a Larry (the son) who was a sacker there and he says that the dad was a butcher who was missing part of a finger but doesn't remember which one. He liked the grocery store and thought it was a nice place.
The man would argue with a stop sign and dug in on the name. He kept insisting it was Frank. I told him his son would know... He suggested maybe it wasn't REALLY the son and commented that he wished his mother was still alive because she would put an end to the dispute. At this point, all I could do was roll my eyes. After about five minutes, he decided it probably was Fred. It was starting to come back to him.
This is what I live with. Woe is me. It is no wonder that sometimes I am cranky.
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