Mall misery
Girls, I’m ready to give back my ovaries if it means that I will never have to step into another shopping mall or grocery store again.
I thought I’d take my miserable little temporary raise and wander around Landmark Mall for a few hours. And other than the people running their strollers over my feet, I had a perfectly delightful time. I bought an outfit at Old Navy for when/if I get a date for Valentine’s Day (I bought jewelry for V-Day last year — and I did wear it, even though I bought my two close girlfriends dinner that day b/c my so-called boyfriend was sitting at home, pretending there was nothing special about that particular Thursday). I might return the skirt, though, and get the money back. But the shirt is cute and totally a keeper, even though it’s pink. I hate pink, but with my coloring, I have to wear those summer shades. 🙂 And at least the shirt was on sale — I was proud of myself because I used my knack for matching colors and found the items on opposite ends of the sales floor.
But then I tried to drive out to Shopper’s Club down the street (and the Dollar Store, and Ross’s, etc.). That half-mile drive was painful. I swear, driving down here is like mortal combat — I can’t relax too much because someone’s always about to cut you off, rear-end you or just piss you off. I almost got into a fistfight with a guy in an SUV because he jumped out from behind me and nearly knocked me off the road when he tried to get in front of me. I was honking and yelling and swearing, and hell if he didn’t pull up beside me to harass me. I was boiling and almost threw a dozen eggs at him, but I decided to just let him go because he probably had a gun, with my luck. There was another guy who cut me off and I almost slammed into him (as I was being tailgated at the time, so I was flying up the road). My dear Samantha has wonderful brakes. God love her.
Speaking of that dozen eggs, Shopper’s Club was sheer, unbridled HELL. Let’s forget the fact that 40 percent of its patrons use deodorant. Let’s forget the fact that I had a migraine and couldn’t stand people’s voices. Let’s talk about my full-fledged panic attack in the produce aisle. Heh. I had four people with carts literally up my ass, but I couldn’t go anywhere because the aisle was littered with moms and kids and buggies, and even though they saw me, they wouldn’t move. When I finally tried to move up a few inches, some little brat jumped in front of me and stood there. I almost ran the little fucker over with my buggy. His mom looked at me like, “What’s wrong with you?” and I guess in her culture, my wanting to ram a cart up a child’s ass doesn’t concern his parents. Finally, I freaked and said, “I can’t take this anymore!” and the aisle parted like the Red Sea. Call me Moses. I swear, I am going to use that the next time I can’t get through an aisle. Granted, people were staring at me like I was a freak, but that certainly wasn’t a first, and it definitely won’t be the last time.
I vow to never return to Shopper’s Club for three reasons: 1. The location, because it took me half an hour just to get out of the damn lot. 2. The fact that when you bag your own groceries, there are people ahead of you who are taking their time, and there are people behind you who are smacking you in the back with their carts as you throw your goods into your bags at warp speed. And finally, 3. You can’t take your cart to your car, so when you shop alone like I do, you have to take every last blessed bag with you to your car, which is inevitably in the next lot over.
I usually only take $30 to the store and get my necessities with it, which yields one or two bags. No problem to lug those across Creation. But today, in an attempt to eat out less, I spent double that on items that will stock my cabinets for at least the next month. So I forgot that I couldn’t take the cart with me, so when I got outside, I had to unload the buggy and attempt to carry everything, but I had eight thousand foreign families lining the sidewalks, waiting for someone to bring a car around, so I had to walk on the street and nearly get killed. And then when I finally made it to my car (with no major casualties other than that I’ve lost feeling in my left arm), I had to refrain from hitting people who decided to block the road so that they could load groceries. Argh. This, my friends, might be one of the many reasons why I want to get married already — it would be nice to have another person to help me to carry my bags! 🙂
I felt rather alone today. I missed my mom. I should’ve called but I didn’t charge my cell phone. I also realized how much I hate being single. Please, please tell me that I don’t have to suffer through 10 more years (or longer!) of this solitary life until I meet somebody quasi-normal. Not to mention that the biological clock is going to start ticking in six years. Ugh. Snooze alarm!!!
But I vow, if ever I should ever give birth, somewhere in the far-away future, I will never, ever take my child(ren) out in public until said offspring is/are at least old enough to stay quiet, to carry items and to not get into nice people’s ways. Oncce people become parents, they seem to tune out their kids’ shrieking, leaving the rest of us with ruptured eardrums from six stores away in the mall. Trust me when I say this, my kids will have pacifiers until they are 10 years old.
At least Godiva ice cream was on sale. 🙂 So I guess I have something for which I can be grateful on this cold little Sunday. And as I am never going to the store again, I guess I’ll have to make these groceries last!