With the increased yard work, I’ve also been making more trips to Lowe’s. And since the former owners of my house loved vines, I needed to buy some yard waste bags for the dreaded spring clean-up.
I headed to my local Lowe’s and tracked down the bags. They were in packs of 5 each and only a couple bucks per package, so I hemmed and hawed a little about how many I thought I would need. 3? 4?
I picked up a few packs and headed to the front of the store – along with a couple more items. At the busy check-out, I set the bags down on the counter and told the clerk I had 3 packages. He scanned the top one, rang me up, I paid, and was on my way.
When I got home, I took the bags to the backyard to open up the first package and start the clean up of sticks and twigs and vines.
Except, there were 4 packages of bags.
My hemming and hawing had confused me on how many I’d gotten – and I’d ended up shoplifting.
45 years old and now a felon.
Took me longer than I figured, actually. What with the streaking and liberal definition of “valid recyclables”.
A couple days later I needed to go back to Lowe’s and made my first stop at the return desk. I explained to the clerk there that I’d inadvertently picked up four packages and only got charged for 3.
She was a little surprised, but thanked me – and I went on into the store to get more supplies.
Given that it was only a couple bucks I’m guessing a lot of folks would have just kept that extra pack – but it would have worked on me like a tell-tale heart.
“The bags! The bags! The crinkling of the bags!”
Ehem.
I guess I’m off the hook now, but if they come for me, I’m running and they’ll never take me alive.
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Lunchtime at work last week and the thought of nuking some frozen meal made me just… sad. So, I hopped in the car and headed out to the local fast food restaurant.
The same one that had the “feather-nugget”.
Now, I wasn’t going to get nuggets this time. Or for the foreseeable future.
But, I could go for a burger and I ordered my usual.
“#1 combo, medium, lettuce only, no cheese.”
The person making the burger recognized me and set to work – I always get the same thing and always order it the same way.
In a few minutes, I had a bag of food and I was on my way.
I got to the office, sat down, and opened the bag and the sandwich.
Instead of the expected: bun | burger | lettuce | bun
I got: bun | cheese | burger | lettuce | cheese | bun
Really? Double cheese? Double freaking cheese?
That’s it. I can no longer stand this effrontery. They are dead to me. DEAD. TO. ME.
So, lunch was fries and a diet coke.
And a sullen silence.