Today was just one of those days where you just feel like you’re going bananas. The kiddo getting up at 4:45 a.m. pretty much set the tone. We finally fell back to sleep, only to OVER-sleep and have to do the mad dash to get to school in time. And for some reason my hair today is so flat it looks painted on. I’m bloated, and cranky and feeling frumpy AF.
Driving home in the rain post school drop off, I pulled up beside a car at a stop sign. I glanced over to see a man clinging to the steering wheel, crying. It startled me. What horrible event occurred in his life to cause him such grief? I’ve been thinking about him all day. I can’t stop.
After school I dragged myself out to buy a few groceries. I had a tired little kid with me so about two minutes in she started begging to ride in the cart. So I heaved her in. Thirty seconds later, she wanted out. So I hauled her back out. She was completely out of sorts so I caved and bought a box of crackers for her to nibble while we shopped. Of course she needed a juice box to go with the “they’re dry and scratchy in my neck” crackers. The second I inserted the straw she promptly squeezed the box, dousing me with sticky apple juice. I reprimanded her sharply and looked up to see a woman, giving me a disapproving stare. I considered ramming her in the shins with my cart.
I continued to shop, scanning the aisles for the packet of Ranch Dip I needed for a recipe. I looked in the salad dressing aisle. No powdered ranch mix. The sleepy kid was two sips away from an empty juice box so to speed things up, I asked a girl in a blue smock for help. “Ranch dip? Nope. I have no idea where that is. I’m from bakery.” Thanks. So very helpful.
As I headed toward the checkout I heard a woman speaking to her son. I recognized her voice immediately. It took a moment to place her, but she was definitely a girl I worked with twenty years ago. On any other day, I would’ve gone up to her and asked what she had been up to? Any other day. Today, because of my pancake hair, the scary shadows under my eyes, the sticky juice pants and an unruly child…I kept walking. I am annoyed at myself for doing that. I want a do-over. Now I’ll never know how her life turned out.
I lined up at the cashier, bypassing the self-checkout. We always choose the self-check. My daughter LOVES using the scanner and naming the various things we’re buying. But it just wasn’t in me today. When she thought I was looking she added a pack of gum, a box of razors, and a BBQ lighter to the cart. I’m wise to her tricks however and spotted these additions immediately and put them back on the shelf (I could ream off a dozen past items I did NOT catch in time).
As I bagged the groceries, I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the angry man behind me complaining to the Customer Service Manager about some mouldy food item he was trying to return. He was in quite a state. The kiddo even stopped pilfering the chocolate bars, hair elastics and batteries to listen in. And then, before I could stop her, she reached over, dug her tiny hand into the man’s back pocket and pulled the silky lining out. Then she gave his right bum cheek a little pat. He turned around and looked at her and then at me. “Uh, that wasn’t me! It was her!” And then in a more hushed tone, “She’s a pick-pocket.” I told him straight faced and shrugged my shoulders and kept bagging my groceries.
He burst out laughing and so did the formerly terse store manager. Suddenly, my day was a little less blah.