Monday, December 13, 2010

Ho, Ho, Ho. I Don't Think So.

So, the housewife had to run some errands today. Dog medicine had to be picked up, human medicine had to be picked up, Christmas gifts had to be purchased, and outgoing items had to be dropped off at the post office.

If I had the teeniest drop of Christmas spirit in my when I went out this morning, it has been completely squeezed out of my circulatory system by now.

First, a trek across Siberia. Well, across the Target parking lot. A long way to go for medication I don’t want to take. Perhaps the man had already been in line. I don’t know. He came from out of an aisle and snuck up to the pharmacist’s counter in front of me. Could have been he had every right to do so. My possession of ovaries does not automatically put me in line in front of him. But, if you know you’re going to be asking a lot of questions, why not just hold back and let the little lady go first. She’s going to be getting angry later, so better to just let her have some peace for now. Or not.

It makes me deliriously happy to know that my prescription is going to cost more than 3 times what it did earlier. And no one is going to be able to tell me why. Its up to me to make the choice – pay up or die. So, calmly, I take out my wads of cash and change, and place it into the pharmacy cashier’s hand.

After jostling (jousting) for the shortest big box check out line, I reach the cashier and am given a not too pleasant look for having the nerve to supply my own bag. Makes a little extra work for the cashier. In return, she grabs the receipt, coupons for shit I don’t want on my next trip, green change and the jangly change, and, in a vague attempt to aim everything at once into my outstretched hand, misses by a mile and hurls most everything to the floor. “Oops,” I say as I chase rolling coins. I am able to catch the ones that rolled my way. I have to stare at her to get her to pick up the coins that rolled behind the counter. I try to gather my belongings as they are shoved along by the cashier to make room for the next customer’s purchases.

I think I shall attend the next big box chain board meeting and suggest that next to the register, a catapult should be installed for each cashier to launch receipts, coupons and change in a wide-ranging arc. Better than a piƱata, and just as frustrating to the customer.

Outside the store, I attempt to reach my car in the parking lot. While passing through the crosswalk, a man swerves his car around me to save himself the inconvenience of slowing down. For some, it seems, picking skin, bones and purchases off of the front bumper is preferable than lightly applying the brakes.

Where to next? More Christmas shopping? Why yes. At the only other store in town? And would that be another big box chain store? Absolutely. What the hell else is left in town? Why not the little gift stores downtown. Well, they all went out of business. What about that furniture and gift store out by the mall? Well, now that’s a mattress center. What about that awesome music store that would have all kinds of neat things for the hubby? Well, they have downsized and eliminated most of the cool stuff. The other side of the store? Well, that was made into a mattress center? What about that store that was across the street? Well, now that’s a Chick-fil-A. Ok. Ok. What else? Say, what about Pier I. There’s neat stuff there. Like hell. It’s now a medical clinic. What about that cool party store across town. Nope. It’s now a medical clinic. Wait. That independently-owned toy store? Nope, walk-in medical clinic. WTF? Yep. Retail in my neck of the woods means mattresses, chicken sandwiches and medical clinics. How do I wrap up those crappy gifts? Wait! There’s still some retail left in town. Tanning salons! Nail salons! Melanoma? Nail fungus? Plenty of walk-in clinics for that!

Since shopping has been cut short, to be done at home from the computer, there’s just one more errand to run. The post office. Good God, there’s a looooong line. But, it moves quickly. The clerks are patient, calm and friendly. Joy! Postal Joy! Who would have thought?

The little bit of Christmas joy received today was furnished by the Post Office!

Saturday, December 4, 2010

A Little Disturbing

Last weekend, the family drove south to visit my mother, known as '"Moppie" to all grandchildren, in the hospital.

All kinds of things are happening to her body. The last 20% of the last remaining kidney decided stop functioning a few weeks ago. This pretty much f*cked up the rest of her body pretty good. Recovery has been slow.

As we were leaving the hospital, my mother requested we go to the drug store across the street to buy her some Depends undergarments. She did not want to ask the nurse for them. She wants to be in control and it upsets her GREATLY not to be. When one is undergoing dialysis 4 hours at a time, one can't just get up and waltz into the bathroom.

My daughter asked what we were going to buy. The hubby just said, "something for Moppie." I'm a bit more forthcoming about such things. I told her they were like pull-ups for grownups, and she needed them because she couldn't move for four hours during dialysis. My daughter, remembering her pull-up days, asked, "Do they have little pictures of Dora the Explorer on them?" I said, no, but maybe they had little pictures of Frank Sinatra on them. After a brief discussion of who Frank Sinatra was, and why old ladies liked him, she stated that having little pictures of Frank Sinatra on one's adult pull-ups would be A LITTLE DISTURBING.

Yes, it would be.

But one has to find a little fun in life among all the bad shit, right? And now I have a disturbing little marketing plan.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Is it Really December 1st?!?!?!

Isn't it pretty? Yes. Lovely. But each year, when December 1st rolls around, it feels more like a shark attack. I get the feeling that this beautiful Advent house is perfectly capable of disemboweling me, leaving me writhing on the floor, desperately clutching at the air.

My husband's mother gave it to my daughter four years ago. She had it all filled and ready to go. My daughter loved it. When "Baba" laughingly told me that I would be filling it up the following year, I was excited. It was going to be fun.


My daughter hates chocolate. She does not need anymore of those little plastic Hallmark ornaments (not that she needed any to begin with). Most little trinkets I buy for this thing are just an eighth of an inch too big in one direction to fit in. No. She does not need any more hairclips (but they do fit nicely).

Today is December 1st. Not one single little compartment has been filled.

This damn thing has disemboweled me once again.

I did have a plan to go out and buy some bits and pieces today. My plans are falling down around me. I'm waiting by the phone for my mother to call me from the hospital. Ice has begun falling from the sky. I'm not feeling the least little bit festive.

Plan B. Look under sofa cushions for change and lost items that will fit behind those teeny, malevolent doors.

(actually, I am terrified to go out. I don't know what will happen to me or those around me if I hear the smallest snippet of that First Day of Christmas song.