OUAT, Chapter 3

I was at Walmart, buying a telephone because the old one is in such bad shape that earlier this week the connection was so horrible that the woman at my insurance company asked if I was calling from overseas.  I also bought summer jammies for the boys, an anniversary card for some friends and a $1 tiara for myself because, well, a girl can never have too many tiaras.  I was in the checkout line behind a couple who had a cart full of cool and groovy summer patio stuff, like wine glasses, party supplies, some really cool kitchen goods and linens, and yard decorations.  My guess is that they are having a party for this holiday.

The last item put on the counter was a pair of men's running shoes.  The woman started in on the poor cashier about how the shoes were dirty and how can you allow people to mess up the shoes when other people want to buy them and why is there not anyone in that department to keep the shoes nice and she came all the way over here for this particular pair of shoes and her time is very valuable and she could to to Payless and buy brand new shoes and she deserves a discount because the shoes are damaged and even after the cashier called for a manager and the manager came to look at the shoes, she just kept on yelling and getting louder and louder and the rest of us waiting in line were totally cracking up.

So, anyway, I am standing right next to her and I cannot see any marks on the shoes at all and the cashier cannot see them and the manager cannot see them and she never stopped talking and complaining about how she can go to Payless and buy brand new shoes and not have to pay full price for damaged goods.

The manager lets her talk and I could see that she, the manager, was trying not to smile and she asks the customer if she would like a discount on the shoes and the customer says, "Well, it's about time because I shouldn't have to pay for damaged goods when I can go to Payless and buy brand new shoes."  The manager then offers her 10% off of the original price and the customer replies that that will be just fine.  So, the cashier rings up the shoes, does an override and takes $1.20 off of the $12.00 original price of the shoes.  The man behind me was laughing so hard that he nearly dropped his box of cat litter.

When the cashier was checking me out, she told me that the card I bought had a smudge on it and asked if I wanted to exchange it for a clean card.  That is when I lost it and started laughing and told her that the card was fine and the man behind me said that they should give me a discount because I could go the Hallmark store and buy a brand new card.

The moral of this story is that a penny saved is a penny earned, but an outrageous checkout line performance is priceless.

It was 3 p.m.
The outside temperature was 96 degrees.
The indoor temperature was 85 degrees.
The furnace was still on.
All I could bear to eat was some bread and butter.
This is why the Goddess gave us fans and a sense of humor.

I was able to put my life into perspective when one of my best friend's boyfriend (Do women our age have boyfriends and if not what are they called?  Paramours?) pulled a shotgun on her and shot her sculptures.  The pieces of art that he did not completely obliterate with the gun were finished off with a club.  I can hardly wait to read the police report.

Part of this morning's coffee with my friends was about butter, and the relative merits of covered butter dishes, butter bells and whether or not (and how) butter should be refrigerated.  One of the women stated that she despises butter bells because once her butter melted down into the water, which is actually impossible to do, unless you fully packed the butter container and then heaped more butter on top of that butter and then balanced the top portion of the container on the heaped up butter and set it in the sun.  I mean, if you are going to have a prejudice about something, then at least get your physics right.  Maybe it is not physics, but whatever it is, stop being such a dork.  Anyway, the conversation got a little heated (butter pun) and I decided not to share that I like my butter closer to rancid than to spanking-new-fresh. I wonder where the dialogue might have gone had I mentioned my fondness for yak butter.

I am going to try to avoid doing anything, useful or not, until the sun goes down or the furnace blows up or someone who is not me finally sees the utility bill and blows up (making popcorn for that show).  No cooking, no cleaning, nothing that takes or creates any kind of temperature changes.  I am going to watch DVDs from the library, I have six of them, put my feet up and drink a couple of my coupon-free-sodas and have some cherries.  When it is dark and cool-cool-cooler, I will finally make the meatloaf and bake the ribs and fill my underwear with ice cubes because the furnace will probably still be on.

Happy holiday!  The history books, at least the ones that the revisionists have not yet gutted, tell us that England was not thrilled with our revolution, but I am betting that they are happy-dance happy now that they are rid of us.  Yep.