So I’m at Walmart … a place I really, really try to avoid if possible.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy a bargain. I just have a tough time with all the other people there looking for bargains.
Actually, I believe you can find the rudest people on the planet congregating in your local Walmart: the people that are in the checkout line publicly ridiculing their children for everyone to hear, the woman that rams her cart into yours (or your leg) and then gawks at you like it was your fault for standing where she wasn’t looking, or the coughers — those people that walk around the store coughing like they swallowed a hairball, touching everything they pass, and never, ever covering their mouths.
It’s a germ-a-phobe’s worst nightmare. Trust me. I know this.
So I’m at Walmart today, and as I’m walking down the frozen food isle, minding my business and attempting to dodge oncoming carts, my butt gets grabbed.
This is a little out of the ordinary for a couple of reasons:
- My husband is miles away at his office.
- In the past twenty years, I don’t know that I’ve ever received a public butt grabbing.
- I’m in Walmart.
In shock, I whip around and come face-to-face with a man whose eyes are now the size of saucers as the realization hits him.
“Oh. My. God. I. Am. So. Sorry. You. Are. Not. My. Wife.”
“From the back, you look the same. Same hair. Same outfit. Same … butt.”
At this point, I can’t lie, I’m a little curious. Is this a compliment? Insult? Maybe I should find this woman and see what she looks like?
But I simply give my best stern face and say, “Urmph.”
And then I attempt to steer my three-functional-wheeled cart to the checkout, over there by the screaming mother coughing on the magazines.
So if you haven’t read, Kansas is in the midst of a horrendous drought. But not in my house — at least not on my coffee table.
One of my favorite parts of Christmas is assembling my sugar house village. I like to treat myself to one or two new houses each year, so the scenery is always growing from year-to-year.
Here are a few shots of this year’s arrangement.