...of Bad Decisions, that is.
Having spent most of the week in an accidental, doctor-induced version of La La Land, I was unable to get the grocery shopping done at the beginning of the week as is my normal routine. This left me only today to make the trek to the ever-exciting supermarket (Sutt in tow), for enough groceries to feed an army indefinitely (or, two small children for a week or less). This should not have been a problem. This WOULD not have been a problem.
Except for the motherfucking weather service.
In Tidewater, VA, snow is a bit of an anomaly. When the Universe and the Cosmos put their pretty little heads together and deem us worthy of the white stuff, we get a whole whopping inch if we are REALLY FREAKIN' LUCKY. This whopping inch will shut down roads, schools, businesses, etc. for days, of course, rendering the streets undriveable and the world at a standstill. However, there is rarely a reason to worry about all this confusion and chaos because, as I just pointed out, IT DOES NOT SNOW HERE. Hell, the weather service doesn't even PREDICT snow for this area most of the time, so there is even less reason to think about it.
This is not the case today.
Apparently, while I was lying inert contemplating how to formulate comprehensible sentences, the National Weather Service decided it would be a really great idea to issue a Winter Storm Watch for our area. Unbeknownst to me. Sometime within the last twelve hours (the first twelve during which I have been fully functional once again) this Watch was upgraded to a Winter Storm Warning. On the day that I need to go to the damn grocery store. Let the chaos begin.
First of all, I have no idea what people think they are going to DO with all that bread and milk they stockpile. Maybe it's just difficult for ME to understand, as I rarely eat bread and I don't drink milk. My version of batting down the hatches involves a trip to the ABC store and the library--who needs food when you've got a couple of bottles of Stoli and the new Amy Bloom? Alas, most people tend to think differently than me, so bread and milk it is. And they will FIGHT over that stuff, yo. Literally throw punches over a gallon of 2%. I kid you not.
Have you ever taken a four-year-old to the grocery store at 9am on a Friday before a shitload of snow is touted as a possibility? For those of you who can say "yes" to this, come on over. I will make you a nice drink and we can discuss our misfortune and how WE NEVER DID ANYTHING TO DESERVE THIS. Everybody else, suck it. Because you haven't lived until you've gone grocery shopping with a little kid. Not only did I have the squeakiest shopping cart ever created, but I also had a child (dressed in a Spider Man leisure suit, no less) shouting, "Hey! Can I have a cheeseburger? But NO PICKLES! It's TOO EARLY for pickles! Hey! I want that cereal with the big lion on it! Daddy gets it sometimes and HE WON'T SHARE! Hey! You know what I did with my straw in my juice box at school yesterday? I sticked it up my nose! hahahahaha! Hey! Mommy! Look at that man! He has GIRL hair! Hey! Why is them people so OLD?" You get the idea.
When we finally reached the checkout lines (all of which had a minimum of thirty-seven people in them, most of whom appeared to be very old men and/or butch lesbians) I had the amazing luck to end up behind a woman obsessed with her very small "Morkies" (half Maltese, half Yorkie) who spent the entire twenty-five minutes (yes, I timed it) that we were in line together explaining to me how she had to purchase pee pads because her babies wouldn't step outside in that snow AND how her vet had called and reminded her to be sure and put them in sweaters, as little dogs needed sweaters when it was below thirty-five degrees. Also, her dogs are only ten inches tall and the snow will be over their heads! Did I KNOW we were getting ten inches tonight??
(*Tangent: When I told my husband about this, he was highly disappointed that I didn't respond with: "Ma'am, this doesn't impress me, as I get ten inches EVERY night." Wink, wink, suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Gotta love those boys and their phallic obsessions.)
Anyway, there are several morals to this story. Being the good, sweet girl that I am, I shall now lay them out for you (in list form, of course). Please note that these are the HALEY morals, not the normal ones.
1. OCD is awesome, and should be left the hell alone.
2. Pickles for breakfast are not appealing to four-year-olds.
3. It is questionable whether it is more offensive to say "look at that man with girl hair" to a butch lesbian or a male with long tresses.
4. If you do not like apples, do not purchase Fuji Apple Pear SoBe water.
5. If you have a ten-inch penis, you should be a porn star, not an engineer.
6. I'm pretty sure "Morkie" is not a real word. Nor should it be. Nor is "Yaltese." "Mutt," however, IS a real word.
7. Kids are more observant than you think. If you buy Frosted Flakes and then hide them for yourself, they WILL notice.
I hope you all learned something from this.