I’ve never had the greatest understanding of purgatory. Today, I had a break-through, an inkling of what it might be like. Wal-Mart is purgatory on earth. Let me be even more precise, Wal-Mart, on a lunch hour from work, is purgatory on earth. To double-check my comparison, I found this definition of purgatory:
a place or condition of suffering or torment, esp one that is temporary
Pig farmer gets angry every time we go to Wal-Mart because the quantity of bags never aligns with the quantity of $$ spent. I try to soften the blow for him by making little, in-between, trips to Wal-Mart for a few extras, make-up, hair products, etc, that his pig farmer-mind doesn’t understand and so that the $$ isn’t so overwhelming (thoughtful, aren’t I?).
Pig farmer has also “grounded” me to the car at times. Such as those times when I say, “I just need to run in for a couple of things.” He has told me, “Stay in the car, because if you go in, it will take forever.” It is not my fault that we will run into people to talk to while we are in there. “Okey-dokey,” I say, “you win! I’ll stay in the car while you go in.” 😉
Today’s lunch hour, though, was one of those I’ll-spare-pig-farmer-the-pain trips to Wal-Mart. OH. MY. GOSH. It was an exercise in patience for me. People I have never seen in my life were out today. So, it should have been quick, right? No, they were the slow-movers-down-the-middle-of-the-aisle shoppers. They were also couponers. I knew I was in trouble when the blue-haired person in front of me told the cashier, “Just run it through. It’ll take it.” The cashier checked each coupon to each item. Items that were already bagged and in the cart. Painstakingly. The blue-hair kept insisting that “the beeper would run ’em through.” The problem was, the coupons were not for the brand she had purchased. The cashier explained that the store “would get written up” in the great coupon book of life if she accepted coupons that didn’t match purchases. I eye-balled other lines. I had already put my items on the belt. What would be quicker?
A noise drew my attention back to my line … my cashier was blowing her nose. And then wiped her hands on her hips. Then turned to me with my deer-in-the-headlights-look. Then she rubbed both her eyes with the palms of her hands and made a groaning noise. She started scanning my items and I snapped out of my frozen state. Luckily, I had not yet had time to eat or I think I would have lost my lunch. I could not get out of there quickly enough.
I almost asphyxiated myself with the overdose of antibacterial cleaner I slathered on when I got to my car.
Why is it that I can scoop poop, wrestle animals that out-weigh me many times over and complete many outdoor chores that should be more disgusting … but Wal-Mart is what throws me over the edge?