Yesterday, oh yesterday....suck it.
Yesterday was grocery day. I split the list between Sam's and the commissary. That's where the best deals are for us, specifically.
We don't stick to a rigid schedule, but, even for us, nap time came early today. Jake was dubbed "the whiner", would fight the smallest things, and, to be clear, he's not a whiny kid. We just, kind of, go with the flow.
Today? We were against the current.
Then, the drivers. Seriously, people drive out here like their ass is on fire. And, I'm not going to say it's a Southern thing because we live on an Army post; there's a melting pot of the United States bunched into one area.
There's a story I'm going to post tomorrow that will help you to understand why the drivers are even more under my skin than usual, but, today, one driver, in particular, was deemed a f*ck stain. And, I meant every letter of it.
OK, I don't drive like I'm in a rush, but I also have my head outside my hiney just enough to know to keep with the pace of traffic. But, I seem to drive, lately, when all the douchebags are out, who have to go 90 on the I-24, and get so close to me I can't even see the first 6 inches of their hood. Let's be clear about something, if you're driving like a complete 'tard, and it happens to be endangering my child's life, I'm gonna cut you.
This threw my irritation into overdrive.
Here I am, trying to make things as speedy & as painless as possible, but I've got the Great Whiner fighting me on every move that has to do with the carseat, feeling horrible that we had stuff to get done, on the verge of tears from total mental overload, and about to go all Grand Theft Auto on fellow drivers.
And, I started to laugh.
The delirious laugh.
The laugh that says I'm either going to go crazy, or slap a nun.
But, I gathered my shizz. I realized that the day was throwing tests at me and I wasn't about to starting failing tests now. I recognized my frustration level rising. I realized that how I was feeling was completely justified, but giving in (ie, crying, screaming into a pillow, nun-slapping) wouldn't help. And, for that, I was epically proud.
So, we get to the commissary and the parking lot is packed. But, it always looks packed to me, and it's never that bad (when we go!), but today was wrong. But, we're already here, there's no way we're headed back. Embrace the suck.
P to the S....I think the people in the commissary proved that theory I have about about how people push their carts having some correlation to the way they drive. I swear, it is science.
Jake and I are doing our thing, picking up a few friends along the way (that's how we roll), and head to the line. For those that know the commissary, OH MY GAH. The line was the longest I've ever seen it. That bitch wrapped around to the back by the cheese, and biscuits and such. For those that don't know our commissary, picture an 'L', with the tip of the horizontal line being Willy Wonka's golden ticket, aka the registers, and the tip of the vertical line being the very end. When we got in line, there was probably, ballpark, 50-60 carts in front us.
Yeah, I know.
So, there we are, making the best of things, refusing to let another test tempt me with failure. The line moves fairly steadily. Not fast, but steady. Come to find out, they have about 5 registers open. Because, obviously.
L-followers, we go to the point where the horizontal and vertical lines of the L meet, 'bout halfway. Some guy, running the express line, comes out to see if he can help the line shorten a bit by choosing someone with not too many items in their cart.
I swear, it was like being chosen to come on down for the Price is Right.
I. WAS. CHOSEN.
Suck it, long ass line!!!! I was pumped. Everyone looked at me with a combination of she's so lucky and like I was scab crossing the picket lines. Oh, and the cherry? When I was chosen, there was about 25-30 carts in front of me. Yeah.
We get up to contestants' row, and I see a guy behind me with a lone pound of ground beef. I asked him if he wanted to go ahead of me, and he said no, that he was fine.
It's like I won the lottery.
Frick, I should have played.
We made it home, teething boy rested & played while I made bomb diggity chicken cordon bleu, cleaned the kitchen, and got my sushi dinner ready--which I had been craving for weeks.
-survived the nutbag drivers
-laughed off delirium
-picked for contestants' row
-Jake and I are still friends.