Good Intentions Lead You Know Where

No, this is not a picture of me. Though she does have blond hair and a sort of frenzied expression, so hey. We're at least closely related.

Don't know what it is about the weekends. I know, I posted last week about how great they were in comparison to Mondays and that's still true. But somehow, this weekend is slipping past me.

I started out with the best of intentions. Going to write my chapter today. Got up, turned on the laptop, checked email--hey, everybody's got their priorities--then realized I had to go back to the grocery store because I didn't spend nearly enough money there on Wednesday. Oh, and I should mail that book I promised to send a week ago. And while I was out, I could go to Walmart and get a refund from the chick who charged me TWICE for one movie this week. (Should have looked at the receipt earlier, but it took me two days to put the stuff away.)

So hit WalMart first, because as everyone knows, going there on a weekend is like taking your life in your hands. The parking lot alone can kill you. So I'm prepared to do battle with customer service, because I can't PROVE I didn't buy two copies of XMen Last Stand. But the girl was really nice and refunded the money without a problem. This is of course, AFTER I stood in line for twenty minutes waiting for a man to decide if he really wanted to return his kid's remote control car or not. Men should not be allowed to shop alone. But that's another blog.

So on the way out, I'm feeling pretty good and spot some Snap Dragons. I LOVE flowers, but I have the Gardening Thumb Of Death. It ain't pretty. But every year, I keep buying cannon fodder and setting them out in the garden. So I bought some pink ones and some yellow ones and headed for the Post Office. Just wanted to mail off a book, but the scale was broken, so back into line. There's ONE WOMAN working the counter. On a Saturday, people! I'm fifth in line, behind a woman who's having to push her stack of packages along with her feet because there are so many of them. Think about leaving, but I'm already there and I was supposed to mail that signed book out last week. Me. The Great Procrastinator. Finally get to the head of the line and the woman's run out of tape or whatever in the receipt machine--and I get to deduct post office expenses. So I wait. Again.

Finally out of the post office and off to the grocery store. Again. Fill my cart, with way more stuff than I thought I'd come in for, say hi to everyone I know (because I'm there so often, we're like family), and grab a bottle of wine, because hey, after the post office, I'm going to need some tonight. On the way out, stop at the in store Starbuck's. Going to treat myself to a latte. Finally cooling off around here and it sounds really good to me. Wait in yet another line. Finally my turn. Sandra, my friendly neighborhood barrista, apologizes, says the espresso machine isn't working. Hello?? It's a Starbucks. Isn't it the ONLY thing that's supposed to work??

Another line, latte-less, waiting to check out behind a woman who insists on reading the labels of every can she's putting on the belt. It's okay, errands almost done.

Back in the car. Still no latte. Drive home. Unload all groceries. Why did I get so much stuff? Chill the wine. That's going to be important later. Realize I forgot tomatoes. Again. Take the plants out to the front yard. Give them a drink, go inside to finally fire up the laptop again. Get three pages done, husband comes in to eat lunch and turns on the game. (I write on the couch in my living room--got used to doing it this way when I started and my kids were watching MTV. Trust me, working around a game is much easier)--

While he eats and shouts at the TV, I head out to plant the SnapDragons, despite their tiny flower pleas for mercy. All planted. Give them all a good drink of water and watch them keel over in transplant shock. Nothing I can do for you guys, around here, you sink or swim.

TV's off. Go in, get another three pages done and the day's gone. Gotta start dinner.

But first...WINE

posted by Maureen Child @ 6:20 PM