For someone who doesn't own a Snuggie I sure do spend a lot of time at Wal-Mart. For whatever reason when I'm at Wal-Mart strangers will strike up conversations with me. Does this happen to you? Is this normal?
The greeters ask me about the weather and then tell me their plans for the rest of the week based on the weather report. Seriously, this happens to me. The other day I was at Wal-Mart picking up a futon with Ryan. (It's a Christmas gift to replace Matt and I's craptastic couch) While I was waiting for Ryan to pull his car around so we could load the futon into it, another woman who was standing outside struck up conversation with me about futons. I bet, like me, you thought there wouldn't be much to talk about when it came to futons.
We would be wrong about that.
This lovely stranger told me how she owned a futon for 20 years and at first it was her couch, then her kids used it when their friends came over and now her 13 year old sleeps on it. She figured it was time for a new one because this one had so many stains. Stains, mind you, that she referred to as a "storybook of her life".
I will now abbreviate the previous statement to make it perfectly clear how sketchy it sounded.
STAINS = STORYBOOK OF HER LIFE
And now I'm going to leave that alone.
Tonight I ran to Wal-Mart at 9:30 to pick up some gift bags and such for Christmas. I figured I could get home and get some wrapping done before I blogged. Once more I was wrong. First, the worker in the Christmas section, who to her credit was working her butt off, started talking with me about how much she had cleaned. I smiled and said it looked great (it really did). This compliment caused her to launch into a detailed account about what exactly she had already cleaned and who cleaned what before her so that she could clean the things that she did and also what she planned on cleaning next. Then as she started to tell me how shocked the morning crew was going to be to see the cleanliness when they came in the next morning ...I wandered away from her. While she was still talking.
It was wrong of me to do that. I should have stayed. Heard her out. Wished her a Merry Christmas and possibly given her a hug. Found out if she was single and hooked her up with Ryan. I should have, but I didn't. And God has repaid me mightily for this sin.
Just as I was about to pay for the ten items I was purchasing and escape, someone called out my name. Well not my name, my maiden name. It was my former sewing teacher, Mrs. B. OK, Internet buddies, you don't know Mrs. B but everyone who does know her is laughing at me right now. Shaking uncontrollably with laughter and saying, "You should have finished that conversation with the Wal-Mart employee."
I stood in the electronics department for a solid hour discussing education, animal grooming, how dogs can help kids learn to read, a list of ways to help Punk sleep better, how Mrs. B's son doesn't sleep well either, ways to help fix depression. Oh and Wii's. A WHOLE HOUR. I was so thirsty. My tongue got stuck to the roof of my mouth once or twice.
In all fairness, I found everything she had to say fascinating and that's not even sarcastic. She's amazing and wonderful and honest and humble. The thing is, she knows everything. She's an accomplished seamstress, whose dogs teach kids to read and compete in dog shows. Her kids are in their 20's and one runs her own business and one is a computer nerd (read, has good job). Oh and she's a nurse. Here I am all proud because I got a new high score on my favorite Wii balance game and she's solving world hunger and poverty and I'm pretty sure Trent Edwards has a crush on her.
I suck at life.
2017 NFL Draft: Ranking the running backs
5 hours ago