How often are you standing in line at the supermarket and, because you have nothing else to do but think how much better a slow, tortuous death would be than this, and having written out your list, shopped, and now you have to wait in line while the cashier is holding everything up so the person three people ahead of you can run back to get the Tuscan cantaloupe she suggested rather than the regular cantaloupe because someone told the cashier the Tuscan was sweeter and maybe the customer should put this regular one back and buy the Tuscan because it just so happens to also be on sale. And, because you are too far back in the line to wriggle your way up and grab a dog-eared magazine to browse, you have nothing else to do but stand there and THINK.
I never realized how many random thoughts go in and out of my head within a span of minutes and how they all seem to link together to make this great big psychotropic hallucination that probably is a self-preservationist type of thing one does when one is standing in a line for so long that she finds herself bordering on the brink of insanity, suicide, or both.
So I decided to write down as many thoughts as I could remember, which might do a person like me or you or anyone who thinks they are fairly normal, a bit of good. Because then you'd realize that we are all as whacky as the next person and that if anyone knew the thoughts going through your head at any given time, they would surely commit you. And please don't tell me you don't do this. Because if that happens, I'm calling 911. So here they are, some of my thoughts while in line:
"I gotta figure out a better way. This is crazy standing in line this long while she lollygags up there, showing the lady in blue her new watch when there's a line a mile long. Wait a minute. That sounded mean. Be patient. It's a virtue. But there just has to be a better way around this. I think I read there are services for this. But I think it's something like 15% of the grocery bill. OMG, it'd be way worth it. Fifteen percent???? Wait a minute. That's not right. Crap. Look at my nails. This is why I don't like to polish them. They look good for, what, all of 3 hours? Wait a minute. I don't think I have any nail polish remover at home. OMG. I'll have to stop at the drug store and get some. I can't walk around with peeling nails. I'll look like I'm back in junior high. And of all times to be a renegade and choose fire engine red. My toe hurts. Why is it that everyone else can wear shoes like this and I can't? Maybe they have the same problem. Look at that guy over there. I think he's the store manager. What. A. Ladies' Man. Jerk. Swishing his head this way and that. Like we're all looking at him. He's acting so sure of himself. He's like a horrible accident. You can't look away. Making such a fool of himself. Stop looking at him. I can't wait to get out of here. I wonder what would happen if someone came in here right now and tried to hold this place up and steal grandma's ring off my finger. What would I do? Of course, as soon as the gunman walked in, I'd slip it off and shove it down my bra. Why don't women think of this on TV or in the movies when they're all laying on the floor and the gunman is snatching expensive watches, rings and necklaces? I'd slip this sucker off so fast they'd never know. Wait a minute. The ring wouldn't even stay in my bra. Who are you trying to kid? I'd have to stick it in a pocket and hope for the best. You never see gunmen frisking people in the movies anyway. They wouldn't have time for that. They're always in a hurry. Oh come on. Why do I get in these lines. Always. Always. It's like I have some short circuit in my brain that leads me to the worst choice I could possibly make. Shopping lines, border lines, and chemistry class. That was the pits. I was always last in that stinking line to get the materials for our experiments. There's a better way for that. I should have been a teacher. Just like I planned. Everything would have been set up on lab day. No free-for-alls. Because then the skinny, shy kids like me wouldn't have to fight for a freaking beaker. But no. I didn't get my teaching degree because that man I married was in school for half of our lives!! Someone had to bring home the money, for crying out loud. Price check? Are you kidding me? OMG. Come ON!! I have to go to the bathroom. What if I fake a fainting spell right here and now. Don't be an idiot. Then you'll never get checked out. Oh wait, they're opening another line. And she's saying, 'I'll take the next person in line.' That's me. Wait a minute. What's going on? The people behind me all went over there. Am I invisible? I was 'next in line!' That does it. Now I've gotta get back in the other line and, wait a minute. . . "
Copyright 2009 liamsgrandma
