Soggy Sunday

Blissful Sunday.  Well, that's what it's SUPPOSED to be.  Unless you include a trip to Walmart.  When it's raining.  I'm tellin' ya, NASCAR drivers can't get in the pits any faster than people trying to park by the door at Walmart in the rain.  You need an air traffic controller to help you navigate a Walmart parking lot.  And of course, the person who gets the first prime parking space is about 18.  They hop out of the car and skip to the door in between the raindrops so they don't get wet.  Unlike us *ahem* more mature people who have to unfold to get out of the car and don't get up to speed for at least 30 yards.  Then you realize they have parked in a handicapped spot!  You get ready to leave a nasty note on their windshield when you realize there is one of those handicapped plaques dangling from the rearview mirror.  In fact, it's still swinging from the momentum of them blasting into the parking space at the speed of light.  You KNOW it belongs to Granny or Aunt Hortense, not that nauseating 103 pound stick that just went tripping in the store.  They're so much faster than you that as you are going in the store, you see them going through the exit door with a full cart AND a drink from Subway.  I tell ya, it really pisses me off.

Then let's talk about actually SHOPPING in Walmart.  The first thing you hear is the lilting lullaby of a really mad kid who didn't get the whatever's-the-latest toy.  That first soft strain of music is joined by the crashing crescendo of a screaming mother who hasn't slept in 37 months, all building to a symphony that you rename the "Wall of Sound" (if you don't know what the Wall of Sound is, Google Phil Spector and skip over all the stories of his murder trial).  As you tool around the store, you enter the refrigerated section, or as I like to call it, Antarctica.  You need a Nepalese Sherpa's coat to just buy a Red Baron pizza, which you plan to eat in its entirety while wearing your jammies and watching 'You've Got Mail' for the 400th time. (Which sounds like a mighty fine way to spend an evening to me.)

You finish your shopping and head to the car, leaning heavily on the cart handle like you just finished the Boston Marathon.  You plan to carefully place your purchases so as not to mash the bread but it's still raining, so you sling the bags in the car like John Smoltz on the mound in a tied game with 3 on and 2 outs.
Finally, you're home.  Now you have to get all that crap out of the car into the house.  The cats help you by winding around your feet and competing to see who can trip you first and make you fall in a puddle.  

In my mind's eye, I see me in my jammies, with a hot pizza beside me, and Tom Hanks looking cute on the screen.  But first, just let me check Pinterest and Facebook, and I gotta see how the trolls and orcs are doing........I'll get back to ya tomorrow. :)

Til later,
Morado