Anyways, typically the first day back in KC I go to Walmart, that Imperialist paradise. I have to work it a little, to try to shop with a minimum of childrens. The amount of time and effort involved in shopping is directly proportional to the amount of people riding on and around my basket. Anyways, I got to go solo yesterday during naptime, and I went down basically every aisle, because I could and there was no little genius type crossing items off my list and griping about me going off-list and no little other person exclaiming about see THE BALLOON MOM SEE THE BALLOON I NEED THAT BALLOON IS THAT A BIRD MOM I WANN GED OUT MOM I NEED HODE THE CORN MOM.
I got lots of what we need, primarily frozen pizza, peanut butter and bread. And bread, and bread and bread. After a leisurely hour.5, I arrived at the register, loaded the conveyor belt, attempted to engage the surly cashier, and after another YEAR of waiting, I reach for the trusty wallet. Oh, right. The wallet that's at my house. FAIL FAIL FAIL.
Fail fail fail. Even now, it frustrates me. I had to drive back to my house and do some serious convincing to get the MOG and the wee ones in the van for a 2 part errand which involved a)paying for my melted groceries and b)procuring a Christmas tree. More about that "later".
So, then we get back to Walmart and I realize I have forgotten my wallet, again. For which I am mocked unmercifully by the SAME person who stored my wallet in a random backpack while "cleaning". That same person forgets their wallet MOST days, but had luckily for us, remembered it and went in, with no small fuss, and paid for the groceries. Sheesh.