Following my last post about Grocery Store Stress, I received more than one note advising me to, "Chill." That's why I write; getting things out of my system letter by letter rather than cutting my arms, drinking excessively or beating BC, since I've no children. That's OK...I appreciate the warm vibes, but I do feel sorry for those who can't or won't express themselves and keep things bottled up inside. Not a good thing. It's called a Nervous Breakdown.
Still and all, after parking at a different Walmart than my previous post, I put the sun shades against the front window and took a good, long puff before donning mask and gloves, grabbing my walking stick and heading into battle.
It wasn't nearly as bad as I'd expected and you'd be proud, as I was, that when I insulted people at least I did it in a normal tone and without too much inflection.
But damned if NOBODY WANTED TO PLAY!!! Not the corpulent old geezer in his sailor's cap, rat-dog in his arm, boogieing up the wrong way as if he had every right because of his wheelchair; not the mask-less woman twirling around the aisle, shouting and laughing with her 20-ish daughter, who actually chuckled at the term inbreds, proving my point.
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