(1) He who is bold enough to cut you off in high-speed traffic shall never have the balls to travel more than 15 mph.
(2) Whenever you wind up behind a car with Florida plates, insert white flag through sunroof. You’re going to be late for that appointment.
(3) Children seated close enough to touch elbows are more hazardous to driving conditions than a liter of hard alcohol, six inches of sleet and hail, an airbag in the face and a bout of narcolepsy.
Happy travels.
During a late night run to Stop & Shop yesterday, I almost walked right into an automatic door, face first. Confused, I read the sign. It was just past eleven, and the store didn’t close till midnight. Inside it was fully lit, a few stragglers were still shopping, and a cashier was standing at the register. Why wouldn’t the door open?
Being the out-of-the-box thinker that I am, I decided for security reasons, they’d probably locked all but one entrance to the store. I walked to the other end, cursing myself for choosing the wrong side of the lot to park on. I stepped up to the door, and much to my relief, it sprang open.
If the store had indeed been closed, it would have topped off a day of the crappiest kind. The construction crew who was working on our addition took up another job and left us hanging. Meanwhile, all the food from our cabinets is stored in laundry baskets, I’m tripping over boxes of clothes, and I can’t find a matching outfit for any of the three kids to wear to school. We just found out our insurance won’t cover the transmission that blew in our car. The kids are becoming unruly. It seemed like all nine planets had fallen out of orbit and were bouncing around in my path.
After I was finished with my shopping, on my way back to my car, I noticed a man was on his way to the same faulty automatic door. I was going to shout him a warning that the door was locked. I was going to assure him that the store wasn’t closed and advise him to use the other entrance.
But I decided against it. I didn’t want to sound like a crazy woman screaming in the parking lot. Besides, after the kind of day I just had, I was in no mood for good deeds. If this guy wasn’t smart enough to figure it out like I did, then maybe he shouldn’t be allowed in the grocery store. Stupid people should just be taken care of by natural selection. Only smart people get to eat. Plain and simple.
Before stepping into my car, I turned back in time to see him step up to the door and get thwarted. I snickered to myself.
He paused for a split second, walked up to that automatic door, and pushed it open.
Natural selection, be merciful.
Rumor has it that before each register at the Walmart in Simsbury, there are display cases of “pajama jeans,” made with a DormiSoft fabric that feels like sleepwear but with a designer look too good to be hidden under the covers, for only $39.99. Had I seen them for myself and purchased them, I might have ripped the box open, put them on, lay down on one hip like Brooke Shields and droned, “Nothi…ng comes between me and my Calvins.” A reliable source swears they feel just like a second skin with a stretchy waistband that will forgive you for every fatty morsel you ate the night before. What’s more, I have this friend who confessed that with pajama pants in her wardrobe, she could potentially roll right out of bed and drop her kids off at school wearing the same clothes she slept in, and no one would be the wiser.
I should find friends with more fashion sense than that. These people could ruin my image.