I woke up this morning in as reasonable a mood as I ever wake up, which is usually middling to poor. I hate waking up – your bed is so comfortable, so warm, and the prospects of the day loom large before you. Waking up means you have to get out of your pajamas, put on clothes, possibly shower, definitely straighten your bangs, and I’m just really not a fan. Anyway.
So I get up, do all the requisite morning chores (wash face, wash self, eye cream, baby powder etc), and head out to Staples to fax back a wedding contract for my one and only confirmed client. I don’t much like faxing things at Staples, either, so this little chore adds nothing to my exuberance about March 22, a grey and drizzly Monday. My Focus is in the shop today, so I’m driving my dad’s huge boat of a car, I can barely park the thing, and there’s people EVERYWHERE. Everywhere. And everyone has carts from Market Basket.
Oh yes. Market Basket. I’ve posted about it before, albeit briefly. I don’t know what happens to people when they enter that store, but let me tell you, they emerge a whole different species of stupid. After faxing my contract and edging the ocean liner out of its parking space, I sat in a crosswalk for a good five minutes waiting for the sea of MB shoppers to part long enough to pull the car through. I needed coffee. Bad. Finally, seeing an opening, I made my move. Then, from behind me, this woman starts yelling at me about not letting her pass. I say this: it’s a good thing I had my sights set on Starbucks, because my simple PROXIMITY to Market Basket had set me rolling. I had half a mind to hop out of my ride and curse the bitch back to grade school.
But, I didn’t. Because I am nice. Or because she was bigger than me, I don’t know. But I fucking hate Market Basket. And Staples. And showering and parking and almost everything else right now, I’m so annoyed. And I got home and the internet was down. So I’m back to scamming dial up from the neighbors. SIGH.