Kind, creepy, or basic failure?

I stopped by the grocery store on my way home from the store this evening to buy grapefruits and butter… six pounds of butter — it was on sale and I’m going to be baking buttery wedding cakes from my pretty wedding cake book.  On the way in to the store I passed a car with its headlights on.  I slowed down, then kept walking, having decided that it was probably one of those cars whose headlights stay on for a minute after the car is shut off and will turn themselves off automatically.  On my way back to my car, carrying large bags of grapefruit and butter, I noticed the car’s lights were still on.  I sauntered past, nonchalantly peeking in the windows to see if somebody was in the car, waiting for a shopper perhaps.  I didn’t see anybody, and yet I still hesitated, not wanting to set off a car alarm or be accosted by an angry, suspicious car owner.  The driver’s side door didn’t look completely latched, so I braved it and tested the door — it was unlocked!  I filled with pride at my goodness as I looked for the switch to turn off the headlights.

I didn’t find the switch, and after a moment fumbling in the dark (the overhead light didn’t turn on) I gave up and left the car to be drained of its battery because the owner left the lights on.  I tried to be helpful, doing one of those random acts of kindness or whatever that you hear about sometimes, and I failed.  I left disappointed in myself as well as vaguely paranoid about having unwittingly participated in some kind of psychology student experiment about altruism or something.

I ate a grapefruit at home as quickly as possible to cheer myself up.  Yum.

March 27, 2007. Words.