ONE OF THESE IS NOT LIKE THE OTHER

Yesterday I walked into T.J. Maxx, a new store to me, and a new store to the Outer Banks. It was my inaugural shopping trip since moving onto a boat. I heard they have a kitchen section, and we need plates, bowls, cups, glasses (of the non-glass variety).

Inside the door, I turned to port, planning to do a full circumnavigation. The first section was luggage, none of it waterproof -- or collapsible. Jewelry and handbags, none marine friendly, none needed. Then the shoe department. I admired the cute sandals and colorful sneakers, but I'm already over quota in my own shoe department. Clothing, no. I have too many land clothes that get wrinkled, don't offer UV protection and don't dry fast enough. Towels? Not quick drying.

Here I was in a store filled with things that had zero relevance for me.

I was surrounded by women pushing carts filled with metal photo frames -- with actual glass in them, breakable dishes, lovely vases and cute jeans. Me? A hapless interplanetary visitor observing the strange ways of these earthlings ... and yet, wasn't that a memory of me doing the same thing?

Normal once but no more.

WAIT! Look: bamboo bowls! I bought five of them. Does that make me semi-normal? Pseudo normal? Abnormal? Paranormal?

This morning my sister called.

"Can I call you right back? I'm in the bath house."

Freak.