Why do I listen...

Why do I listen to other people?
I left the house today disgruntled about settling for an outing to the local grocery store. Today was supposed to be Monday, the day I succumb to sweatpants and ignore the world. The day I saunter off to Costco, meander the "Fantasy Aisles", maybe pick up a Patio Set, and then toodle around downtown SLO until I feel like picking up some take out and heading home. BUT NO, it's NOT Monday. But, I didn't realize that until noon, until it was too late to undo what I'd done. The baby was already halfway finished with her morning nap, we were on our last roll of toilet paper, and the baby sitter text messaged to confirm her arrival in two hours so I could work from home(teach piano lessons)-as I do EVERY Tuesday. TWO HOURS!!! That's when I decided that Costco was no longer in the cards and we were off to the nasty "Grocerie Locale"...when I ran into my neighbor. She listened to me rant about Tuesdays (as though I was making any sense at this point) and proceeded to assure me I could make it to Costco and back, quote unquote, No Problem(shoulder shrug). Against my better judgement I believed in her, and more assenine was that I believed in me. Stupid. Murphy's Law applied the minute we hit the freeway. "What Could Go Wrong Will"-Mr. Murphy.
The empty fuel light went on as soon as I'd committed to my itinerary. When we arrived at Costco's gas station the entire planet was waiting to fill 'er up. Twenty minutes of stop and go waiting worked up Shelby's appetite so we fueled up and beelined straight to the Costco Lunch Line and waited...and waited...When we finally got our nutritious, vitamin packed, totally organic hotdog she set it aside, sucked down her lemonade before we had made it halfway through the store and yes, you guessed it, insisted we find a restroom before she "peepeed everywhere!!!!". The baby had a blowout on aisle 14. I smeared Shelby's hotdog wrapper all over my white blouse-eau de parfume de mustard et ketchup. The baby was screaming in the front pack (if you spoke her language it would sound something like this, "Can't somebody get me outta this crappy diaper????? MY ASS IS ON FIRE!!!!") When you leave Costco they have that stupid receipt checking policy. Today, Woody Allen and Ray Charles were the receipt checkers and the exit looked to be at least a quarter mile from where we stood. I checked my watch-we had 15 minutes to drive 24 miles, unpack the $400 of perishable items, greet my mother-in-law and compose myself to teach classes. We finally made our exit and I realized the final fatality too late to avoid. The bagger had positioned the watermelons on the bottom and the beer on top and when I bounced into the parking lot they both crashed onto the pavement. PERFECT.
"Do you need some help?" asked a woman dressed in heels and a silk business suit, clutching her Prada purse and pinching her lips as though wondering how those words had just slipped out of her mouth.
"EVERY DAY!" I sputtered, turning my back towards her.
Why DO I listen to other people?

1 comment:

JO said...

UGH!! I am so sorry. What a frustrating day. Hope you made yourself one of the those lemonade drinkie-poos after your lessons - or before, whatever works...Firestone Union Jack :)