Turns out I can't always be thinking things like, "Did Clinton brush off Carter in the hallway? Does Aretha think she is at the Kentucky Derby? Man, this show could use some Kathy Griffin."
My timbers are thoroughly shivered with today's festivities.
I decided to cut up an onion for cover in case someone stopped by and caught me all
misty eyed. Sorry YoYo Ma, but that seemed like a good time to take a break.
I also turned on the kettle for tea.
I will never forget the moment BO became president, my tears, and burning question: what's that smell?
Don't you just love itemized receipts? The total number of items sold printed on the bottom of a receipt keeps my answers grounded in reality when I ask myself "where does all this shit come from?" while hauling out the trash. I wouldn't have thought 90 items could fit in a cart much less be absorbed effortlessly into our house.
This number gained a lot of signifigance when two weeks apart my items purchased totaled 90 and then 91. Am I such a creature of habit? Are there 180 items I need every month?
Let's see
YOP DLC LCH? Easy. Yoplait Dulce de Leche. Okay. Yogurt has a brief shelf life. Clearly I can't stock up for more than two weeks at a time.
OM SHV VHAM? No clue. And two of them at $2.50 each both trips indicate a habit or necessity rather than an impulse.
YEL TAIL WIN at $6.57 was an isolated purchase so maybe it's only needed occasionally? Or is concentrated to last a long time? Ditto ROTARY at $11.27.
FLOWER SEED 4 @ $1.07. Again, both trips. Funny how those things could not be resisted either time despite the fact that it will be months before they have anything to do.
This appears to be just a coincidence. It's not as though both excursions to the Super Store had me procurring exactly the same number of items. But I like to think one incredibly special item tipped the scale. Maybe I do buy 180 things a month. It will be two weeks before any more clues can be had.
In the meantime, I'll be polishing and petting this week's 91st item:
Today's stand off probably started innocently enough. Someone HAD to have seen that the trash was full, but could safely handle just one more thing. But now Scout and David are locked in a dangerous Jenga-like game of "Don't Spill the Garbage."
I've wisely chosen not to play as evidenced by the tomato tops, sweetener packet, and broken cigarette on the counter. And if it really gets to me - and to be honest, it's all I can think about - I'll just start a rogue trash bag that will be impossible to install in the can once it's bent out of shape.
But if they ask me for a tip, I'll suggest the next piece be sticky if it's going to have any staying power.
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