The Shopping List

It's not like my Dollar Store shopping list was expansive.  I needed just two items: a poster board and a whoopee cushion.  Clearly, there was no need to write it down.

I found a parking spot right in front of the store and grabbed a basket as I stepped inside.

Then I thought, "What am I here for?"

I had no clue.

No worries.  I wandered the aisles of the store, looking for the items to jump out at me and remind me of what I was to have gotten.

I put a couple pair of 3.25 strength reading glasses in the basket, but I was relatively certain that they hadn't been on the list.  Not that they shouldn't have been.  I'd forgotten to put them on it.  

I continued roaming the aisles.  Up one aisle.  Down the next.  When I got to the detergent section I remembered that I should have put Borax on the list, but I'd forgotten.  Good thing I remembered.

Except they didn't have Borax at the Dollar Store.  I'd have to go next door to Walmart to get it.

Eventually I walked down the school supply aisle.  There was the poster board.  I picked one up, proud of myself for remembering.  I forgot that there were two items on my list and went to the register to pay for my reading glasses and poster board.

I placed the basket and the poster board on the register belt and got my credit card out to pay for the purchase.  That's when I noticed that my car keys were not in my purse.  I checked my pockets.  Not there.

Crap.

I thought, "Where did I put my keys?"

The Dollar Store lady looked at me and said, "They're in the basket."

I said, "Did you read my mind or did I say that out loud?"

She said, "You asked me where you put your keys."

"Oh," I said.  I left the store holding my bag of reading glasses, the poster board, and my car keys, with my tail between my legs.  

How embarrassing.

Oh well.  It was just the Dollar Store.

I headed next door to Walmart.

After entering the store I thought, "What am I here for?"

The Box

"Mom.  I found your box."

"What box?"

"You know what box.  And it's very disturbing."

I had been Face-timing Kimmy from a cruise port to see how everything was going at home.  And she apparently found my blog box.

"What was in the box?" I asked.  I wanted to be sure we were talking about the same box.

She may have found the box containing my school pictures, which also would have been disturbing.

Or the box containing my toenails.

Just kidding.

"Where do I begin?" Kimmy replied.  "Barbie doll heads, poop play dough, mustache bandages.  Here. I'll show you."  She walked into my bedroom where the box was atop the bed, its contents overflowing.

"That's my blog box," I said.  "Don't mess it up."

Which is pretty funny considering the fact that for the past seven years I've been shoving blog props into the box.  I have to sit on it to get the top to fasten.

"I should have known," she said, removing a very expensive item.  "Is this your wine bra?"  

"Yes!  That's my Wine Rack Sports Bra.  You can use it if you clean it afterwards."  

Kimmy looked closer at the cloudy, mold-infested wine bladder that is virtually impossible to clean.  "I think I'll pass," she said, wisely.

She asked how my cruise was going and I told her about Miles, the creepy senior citizen who kept telling me how "youthful" I looked and followed me around the ship like a puppy dog.

Kimmy returned her attention to the box and removed another treasure.  "Here's a Barbie doll with no feet.  She's got band aids around her stumps."

"Oh, that's Handicapped Barbie," I said.  "She donated her feet to my Barbie Doll Foot earrings.  Be nice to her."

"Right.  And what the heck are these?" she asked, holding up a pair of baby socks with dust mops sewn to the bottom.

"Those are Kevin's.  For when I want him to sweep the floor."

"No comment.  What the heck?" she said, holding up my inflatable bra inserts.  

She said she was glad I didn't bring them along on my cruise.  Miles might have had a stroke.

Kimmy then held up a can of Poop Freeze and I explained to her that it makes Kevin's poop easier to pick up when it's warm outside.

"Freezes it right on the spot," I added. 

Kimmy had nothing to say about my Poop Freeze. 

"What is this?" she asked, holding up what looked like an unraveled ball of black yarn.

"I'm not sure," I said.  "It looks familiar."

She examined it more closely.  "It looks like the yarn is attached to fishnets."

Of course.  My hairy leg fishnet hose.

Damn!  I should have packed those.

Miles might have been following around some other youthful guest.  

Who shaves.