Today, I went out and stopped by a beauty supply store because I wanted a new, big, round brush. After all I've been through, I think I deserve a new, big, round brush. I love going to the beauty store. I love all things hair and nails: combs, gels, shampoo. I guess you could say it's one of my fetishes. It ranks right up there with school supplies. The clerk tried to persuade me to buy a nail buffer, but I did exercise some restraint. I already have three of them at home.
After that, I drove to Walfarts to pick up some items, namely carpet shampoo because some furball barfed on the carpet. First, I wandered back to the seasonal stuff to look at Christmas stuff. You know, I could actually get enthusiastic this year. I have a house, and I have room for decorations. I could even hang lights outside if I wanted to. I'd really like to find a Festivus Pole to put in the front yard.
After that, I grabbed the things on my list and found a line to wait in.
Walmart has a shit-ton of check out lanes. On any given day, where they might have 50 registers, only five of those are open. Naturally, I end up in the line behind the family that has three carts LOADED with groceries. To make it even better, the clerk was new.
So, I stood there. Perused a couple magazines, watched the family unload their mountainous carts (and judging from the content, their house is the home of fabulous home-cooked Hispanic dishes), pondered the meaning of life, and tried to figure out a way to get invited to that family's house for dinner sometime. Finally, an hour later, it was my turn to check out. I'm sure my frozen burritos had fully thawed by that time.
Another clerk appeared and the two began to squabble about the fact that the store is out of bags. This went on FOREVER. The Great Walmart Bag Shortage of 07!! The older of the two clerks sighed.
"All jobs come with stress." She looked at me, "I bet you have stress at work, too."
"Yeah," I said blandly. "People die."
Yes, I know. I'm an asshole.
On a side note, the Redneck Brother has been calling the house all day, leaving messages for Brother to call him. Considering that Brother worked last night and has been sleeping, and that I also work nights, I have the courtesy to wait until he wakes up before telling him to call Redneck Brother.
Knowing him, he either wants money, or he wants to try to get Brother to trade him Oprah for a bicycle or a sleeping bag. Redneck Brother is such a shiester. It comes from Dad's side of the family.
I think I'm going to turn in for a nap now.