So after collecting a month's worth of groceries at Buy-in-Bulk (taking some liberties with the name).
After standing in long Saturday morning lines while women in fashion-forward tops, sparkly black leggings, designer sunglasses and only a frosted cake in their cart push past everyone else without really looking at anyone and saying "excuse me" in a way that clearly means "excuse YOU" so they (okay, she) can get in front of the proletariat with their overflowing carts.
After my friend's groceries have been rung out at the register. And so have mine.
After we have filled two carts with a mixture of hers and hers groceries in canvas bags.
THAT is when I realize that I do not, in fact, have my checkbook with me. Even after saying, "Hey, this time I am remembering to bring my checkbook!" Announcing this proudly on my way out the door. I was very convincing. My friend believed me. I believed me.
No problem, says the lady at the register. Just use your debit card. Right. Except that I still have not gotten around to getting a PIN for this card (a replacement for the one that took a solo ride on an airplane-- heading for Detroit while I was bound for Orlando). Then a cloud of disappointed Buy-in-Bulk workers surrounded me frownfully. Shaking their heads. Voiding out the purchases and whisking them away to a cold-storage room until such a time as I could ra
Sad thing? This is exactly what happened one month ago. Except that time I wasn't getting a month's worth of groceries and my friend could put my stuff on her card and I could write her a check when I got home. Not so this time.
Called home and spouse began the search for the missing checkbook. Hoping I hadn't dropped it Someplace Stupid. It took a really long time for him to call back. Where was it? Not twelve inches away from the bookshelf where I got it. On the floor. UNDERNEATH my French horn.
It of course started snowing heavily and we were nearly out of gas and cars were sliding into the ditch. One even bent a tall highway lamppost to the ground. All told the trip took six hours. Admittedly it included coffee before and lunch after. Still.
Grateful Crap: friends (and family) with a sense of humor
took meds, but not until 9pm
talked with a friend
laughed super hard about every bump in the road
Quaker, teacher, parent,