Not Even Mediocre Friday

Hey, everybody! Today was my Spring Break! Uh huh. One whole day. I'm not worthy.

I had to make a run to town for provisions, since Genius is making a surprise appearance for Easter dinner, which will now be served Saturday night during the two hours he's in town. You would think a short shopping trip on my Spring Break would be a miniscule blip on that Law Murphy's radar. But no! Murphy was my copilot. A more fateful trip has not been taken since the voyage of the U.S.S. Minnow.

In Save A Lot, I had my list, I was firing on all cylinders, just a few items to toss in the cart, and out of there! I grabbed the bananas, the onions, a bag of shredded cheddar...and my Supermarket Sweep speed ground to a halt. In front of me were two beefy men, trying to out-Alphonse each other.

"Well, I don't really need it."

"You know you like it."

"Well, if you want to get some, I would eat it."

That was by the butter and eggs. I could not get around them to the glass-doored sour cream case. Then they moved. Right in front of the glass-doored sour cream case. Parked directly in front of the sour cream door, in fact. Even though they had no interest in sour cream today.

"No, I already have a gallon."

"Is it full?"

"No. But I'll finish it off."

"You should get fresh."

"I don't want to waste it."

"Other people will want some."

"I know. When it starts to run low, I'll mix it in." He grabbed a gallon jug of tea from the cooler.

Note to self. Don't go to this house for Easter dinner and drink the tea. Finally, they moved on. I got ahead of them on the meat aisle and never looked back. I made it to the checkout relatively unscathed, though a mom and daughter, each with their own cart, book-ended me at the boxing counter, acting all discombobulated because I had the last normal box. Fie on their dirty looks! You snooze, you lose. They weren't even behind the Indecisive Father/Son Combo. Not my problem the boxes left were all crate size.

My next stop was Country Mart to pick up some form of dessert that I did not have to bake myself. As I was pulling into a parking space, some idiot in a black sports car zoomed into it from the one on the other side. That's not very nice. I had to back out of the half of the space I was already in, and go to the other side of the aisle. I will admit that if the old man in the car next to where I parked was a lip-reader, he would have blushed like a springtime sunburn behind his tinted windows.

Since I found moldy rolls on the shelf inside Country Mart, I did not load up on bakery goods there. As I was leaving, I fed some cash into their scratch-off ticket vending machine. For good measure, I also fed their OTHER scratch-off ticket vending machine. Which had a checker on a step-stool leaning over the top, trying unsuccessfully to reach the middle. She was quite vocal about not feeling comfortable on her perch.

"Will it bother you if I put some money in this machine? If you fall, I'll catch you. Well. I won't catch you. But I'll break your fall. And I don't think people who use this machine really care what's on top. It's not like we can see up there."

"Oh, I have to be doing something every minute. I only came on five minutes ago, and they already have me dusting this machine."

"I see. It wasn't you idea." I resisted the urge to tell her that her efforts might be better spent checking the bakery goods for mold, and exited with my tickets that only yielded a ten-dollar win.

From there I was off to the gas station chicken store, because what tastes better for lunch on your Spring Break day than some gas station chicken? I waited at the light, only to see the car in front of me pull into that special parking spot that belongs only to me. Curses! I had to drive around to the side, by the air hose.

When I entered the store, partially deaf from a dog in a car at the gas pumps that was barking his fool head off, I did not sniff the aroma of fresh-fried chicken. I walked around to the chicken counter to see one order of fat fries, and six cheese sticks in the glass case. THAT WAS ALL! And it was after 10:30! That's the time they put out their chicken, because everybody knows that people who want gas station chicken want it as early in the day as they can get it. I was tempted to get the fat fries, but nobody was at the food counter to take orders, and the cashier was not buzzing anybody to come out.

I lingered for a moment, thinking that maybe a tray of chicken would appear. A man and woman came in and bellied up to the food counter. "Huh. Not any. There's nothin' to eat here." They turned and left. I was standing in line, thinking I might get a couple of non-machine scratchers, when an old man came in and tried to elbow his way in front of the two ladies with 44 oz. cups asking for cigarettes. I'd had enough. That geezer was going to butt in front of me, even if the two ladies avoided his intrusion. And just then, through the door came a dude in an orange jumpsuit with his hands cuffed in front of his waist, attached to a chain that joined his ankles together. Another guy was holding him by the elbow. Jumpsuit went into the men's room that is right next to the front door.

I chose to make my exit then, and excused myself past Jumpsuit's minder. Enough is actually more than enough.

No need to tempt fate.