Saturday, March 5, 2016

Sometimes Life Makes Val Swim Upstream

Val Thevictorian did not have a good day. The universe was conspiring extra-hard against her this morning. And by morning, I mean 11:30-ish.

Off to Save A Lot for some staples (not actual metal staples, because even Backroads High supplies them for us). No, I mean for a case of water and some foodstuffs. Not a large haul. With it being the first weekend of the month, I was leery of crowds. No problem in that arena. I guess they were all at Walmart. Still, there was only one parking spot available on the store side of Save A Lot's lot. Oh, there were THREE handicapped spots. But Val is not handicapped. So I took the one two spaces down from the handicapped.

The shopping was fairly uneventful, except that the boy checker thought he was doing me a favor. I asked him, you see, if we could just use the cart I was pushing, since the case of water was in the basket. My intention being that I set my eight other items on the conveyor, and he ring up the water, then let me push my cart in place of the waiting empty cart, so he could set my scanned items down in with the water. But no. He took my empty box that I had scammed from the freezer case by laying out three bags of shrimp on the shelf (boxes are hard to come by at Save A Lot on Saturdays), and put my items in the box, and then, while I was swiping my debit card, PUT THAT BOX IN THE CHILD SEAT OF THE CART.

That's not right, people! You have to balance the full box on top of the water case, or across the cart handle and the child seat. When you put the box IN the child seat, it gets stuck on the thick metal wire thingies, as well as skews out of shape, so it's like wrestling a bloated cardboard alligator to get your box out of the cart and into the rear of your T-Hoe.

Imagine my surprise, after plowing through the Girl Scout Cookie sellers on the way out, to see a woman getting into a little red sports car in the closest handicapped spot. She was younger than me, and faster than me, but I daresay I had more insurance. Anyhoo...she was busy texting while she got out her keys to click open her little red sports car with an Illinois plate and no handicapped tag or mirror-hanger. She was not pulling an oxygen tank. I am still puzzled over the nature of her handicap. Perhaps I should stop watching Parking Wars every morning before school.

Off to the gas station chicken store for my 44 oz Diet Coke. I also had a $50 scratch-off ticket to cash in. I poured my Diet Coke and stood in line, unable to get around a guy leaning on the chicken counter. Still, he had to wait for his food and chicken ticket, so I knew I was next after the two little old ladies buying lottery. Then it happened!

A veteran came caning down my aisle. I took a step back, lest I get toe-stabbed by his cane. I figured he had forgotten some condiments for his chicken meal. He was carrying a plastic bag on his arm, like the one they put the box of chicken in. Indeed, he caned around the butt of the chicken-waiter, and reached over to the counter, and GRABBED FOUR BAGS OF M&Ms! Those are not condiments! THEN he proceeded to turn and cane himself to the counter, AHEAD OF ME!

Far be it from Val to call out a veteran on line-cutting. IF he was really a veteran. Just because he was wearing a white cap that said VETERAN doesn't mean he actually was one, I guess. Come to think of it, maybe he didn't even need that cane! Maybe that's just his M.O. for cutting lines all across the county!

The VET also bought some lottery. Then he fumbled in his pockets for the money. The clerk was the new young guy who is slower than Methuselah's great-grandpappy. In fact, by the time I got my turn, there were at least five customers lined up behind me. They probably would have tried to jump in front, having seen how meek Val was, except they didn't have canes, and she kind of takes up the span of the aisle. I was not having it. No way was I cashing in my ticket with slowpoke, and making new selections. I just gave him my correct 44 oz change and hit the road, ticket under my arm.

Off to Orb K for my lottery transaction, which at least garnered me more tickets and a $25 win. Better than nothing. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and sometimes you get back half of the non-money you spend.

THEN it was off to the homestead. I had to contend with drivers turning left from the right-hand lane. And I discovered suspicious activity at mailbox row.

But that's a story for tomorrow.

12 comments:

  1. Mystery at Mailbox Row.

    That sounds like the title of a bestseller.

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    1. Or the title on a manuscript gathering dust in the bottom desk drawer...

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  2. Never a dull moment in backroads. White hat, you say. Perhaps he somehow slipped put of his white coat.

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    1. Maybe he had on a hospital johnny under his jeans and coat. And maybe that cane was just a prop for shaking at kids crossing his lawn.

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  3. Backroads seems sinister & mysterious-=-shades of Peter Lorre!!

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    1. There are certainly horror vibes sometimes. Like at the mailbox when I got home...

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  4. You've left us hanging on the intrigue at your mailbox.

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    1. And you'll probably feel let down when you read the full story!

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  5. Because I catch up backwards, I already know about the mystery!! It irks me to no end when able bodied young people take a handicapped spot. Also when they live off the teat of society and fail to pay their rent on time ....

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    1. That's why we sold our investment duplex. One side paid regularly, one quit after the deposit and first & last month's rent.

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  6. You seem to have a lot of problems, Val. Jus' mebbe you should oughta start carryin' your long rifle into them stores. Set them peeple raht!

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    1. No problems, no blog. I am NOT going to carry my pen and paper to tip them off.

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