target run.

I'm moving soon and have noticed that I tend to justify ridiculousness a lot more prior to a major change in my life. When I left bread & cup and moved to Denver, I ate as many scones and muffins and tomato pesto-y things as humanly possible (because apparently I never was going to get b&c ever again . . .?). I also drank a lot of whiskey. And beer. Bad beer. Needless to say I put on a little extra cushion that summer yet somehow I would have argued a justification to the grave. Gross.

Now I'm off on my next life-changing adventure. Snazz. I'm excited. Sooo in doing so, I'm selling some of my things (anyone want a couch?) and am buying "moving things" -- whatever that means. Well last night I headed out for a quick baby trip to Target to pick up 1. wood glue and 2. plastic tubs or boxes. Ha. I rolled out of there with a new book and movie for my soon-to-be nephews (they're still baking), a gift for a friend, paper towels (?), cat food (the wet kind--woof), and some jelly beans . . . along with my wood glue and plastic tubs. REALLY? Oh well. They're all necessities. Why? Because I have to be Super Aunt, Super Friend, Super Mover, Super Cleaner and Super Cat Lady. That's why.

As I was standing in the check-out line, which was abnormally long for 9:30 on a Wednesday night, I was enjoying some strong people-watching opportunities . . . until . . . the people behind me decided to ignore social norms. OK people, I love my personal space. I told my 6th grade boyfriend to get away from me because he was invading my bubble. Little did I know (or care) he was trying to snuggle and smooch me, but I wasn't having it. Well, as I was putting my loot in my cart to haul outside, the very, um, large gentleman in line behind me positioned himself right next to the little card-scanner/pin-number-inputter and had a look like "I'll be damned if I'm budging." Well shit. So I snuggled up (ew) next to him to run my card and as I awkwardly entered my pin (he was watching me and breathing on me the whole time), all I could think about was socking him in the jiggly belly and making a run for it. So instead, for kicks I gave the cashier an eye and I think he nearly peed himself trying not to laugh. Holy awkwardness. I at least felt good that the cashier and I had a small humor-related victory over the situation, but if I ever come across a bubble-invader again I might just lose it.

Or most likely I won't . . . but a girl can dream, can't she?