I went to the grocery store today for a few things. Not a big deal and hardly worth writing about. Well, not in my world. No, in my little corner of the world, the boring and mundane seem to somehow morph into comedic events that often find their way to my blog or occasionally my Facecrack page.
Almost every morning before I get up, I wonder what is going to happen that I will be able to write about, because more often than not, by the middle of the day a level of chaos has ensued that would rival an Abbott & Costello routine. Actually, the first thing I do each morning is say this little prayer, “dear God, please, please keep me from saying something stupid, don’t let me swear in front of my mother or laugh at the most inappropriate of times.” I’m beginning to think that God is extremely busy between the hours of 4:30 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. Central Time because he has yet to help me hold my tongue. We need a Patron Saint of “Are You Really Going To Say That Out Loud”. Perhaps there is a St. Filter of Foligno.
But I digress…
I arrived home from the grocery store, carried the groceries upstairs and began putting them away. During this time the phone rings. It’s a lady from the company that supplies my son’s diapers and she needs to know how many diapers Joey has left so she can reorder more for next month. No problem, I go back downstairs to Joey’s closet and begin counting – she puts me on hold;
Another call comes in while I’m doing this – it’s a different company calling to refill Joey’s formula, but they need to know how many packets of formula I have on hand before they can refill the formula. So, I stop counting diapers and begin counting formula packets.
In the middle of counting formula packets, I realize I haven’t yet put the groceries that need to be in the refrigerator away. So I stop counting and run back upstairs. I’m almost to the top of the stairs when there is a knock on the door. REALLY!?! I turn around and head to the front door, but then decide not to answer it – it’s probably someone selling something. I go back downstairs and resume counting formula packets. I’m almost done when the call waiting clicks again. It’s the lady from the diaper company – she hung up and called back. Oops! Her voice isn’t quite as pleasant as before and I detect a hint of an attitude. I remind myself of my early morning request to God to keep His hand over my mouth. So far so good.
I’m back in Joey’s closet counting formula, no, wait, diapers. Yes, diapers. Now the knock on the door has escalated to a multi ringing of the doorbell. I stop counting and run back up the stairs and open the door. It’s a lady from down the street thanking me for helping her find her lost dog last night. She goes on about wanting to take me to lunch tomorrow or maybe coffee and then starts to tell me what a beautiful home I have and OH MY GOD WOMAN PLEASE STOP TALKING BECAUSE I’M COUNTING! I smile, mumble something and invite her in, while at the same time glancing up to the kitchen and seeing the groceries still on the counter, cradling my phone on my shoulder and running back downstairs to see how many diapers Joey has left but then I remember that the formula packet lady is still on hold. I click back over and apologize for keeping her on hold. She asks me again for the number of packets Joey has left and I just blurt out 240. Why that number? Because the radio station that is playing in the background just announced that if you are holding a ticket with those three numbers, then you will win $100. The lady tells me that it is impossible for me to have 240 packets because that is more than they send to me in a month. Well damn. I tell her that I was probably counting diapers and put her on hold. I tell the lost but found dog lady to make herself at home and I get diaper lady back on the phone. I tell her how many diapers are left and she asks me if I’m certain. At this point I’m certain of nothing and I jokingly tell her that but my humor is not well received. She tells me that I must tell her exactly how many diapers I have or I could face penalties. Ooooh, I’m scared. Is The Divine Director of Diapers going to show up on my front porch demanding a recount. Is there a division of dim wits at the NSA now watching how many diapers cross Joey’s derrière?
In the end, diapers were ordered, formula packets were counted and refilled and I made a new friend in the neighborhood. But taking everything you just read into consideration, is it really any wonder that when I went to get some water from the refrigerator a few minutes ago, this is what I found:
Would you like to venture a guess as to where the milk that I just bought is located? Yup, it’s in the laundry room, on a shelf, next to the bleach.