It's been a while since I've written anything......In the last little bit, my life has not been anything to write home about, so to speak.....unless I were writing for a melodrama, or a "too many stressful things to be believed" publication. Anywho....it speaks volumes for me to confess that the mortification I am feeling now is at least a change from the old mad, sad, bad routine.
I was in the Teeter (I swear the title to my autobiography should just be "Yet another trip to the Teeter"). They were horribly short staffed today, and the lines were long, so I grabbed a Better Homes and Gardens, and chose the longest one (I may have mentioned before that I read the Magazines in the store, in an effort to be frugal). I blame the magazine I had my nose in.....that, and the fact that even though I DESPERATELY need them, I never wear my glasses. I was looking at a spread with the most beautiful Fall Porches, when my buggy jostled. I look up to see a Man trying to cut in line.
Now allow me to interject, that I am a big fan of letting someone ahead of you in line....I view it as a kindness....a pay it forward kind of thing. The flip side of that coin is that cutting in line (It falls into the not following the rules category, which is a BIG pet peeve, second only to Bad Grammar) really, REALLY yanks my chain. So in a voice calculated to be polite, yet firm I said "Excuse me sir, but I am next in line". As I spoke, I simultaneously realized 3 things. I was in line behind a Church Member (You might recall that I am in the Ministry). I was in line beside a friend (ALSO a Church Member) whose health problems, and the grace with which he deals with them would bring a DemiGod to their knees. And worst of all....the line-breaking Man (A stranger, NOT a Church Member) in question was a contemporary of Methuselah, and his wife was leaning on canes - looking as if she would benefit from prolonged use of portable oxygen.
So NOW what am I supposed to do? Say - "Oh no, please - forgive my assertiveness - go ahead of me, because you are of a highly advanced age?!" How terrible would THAT make them feel? The horrible reality is - these are the kind of folks that I would have insisted go in front of me in a normal circumstance, and now everyone within a 4 register radius is staring at me (remember - I have a theatrically trained voice - it carries). So, I offer my best Mommy smile at the elderly couple - the one that says to your child "this hurts me far more than it does you", took a cleansing breath and soldiered on - pushing my buggy ahead in the queue. They fell into line behind me, muttering under their breath indignantly. The magazine, now ruined for me, was put to the side as I stared straight ahead, face aflame, waiting my turn. The cashier - a new employee - took my Harris Teeter "VeryImportantCustomer" card with judgement oozing from his every pore. Of course, there was a problem with my rain check for the Dog Food, causing quite a delay in completing my order - allowing ample time for me to be on public display - surrounded by the ugly aura from the shock waves of my heinous behavior. Transaction complete, I fly to the car, wearing my mortification like a hot, itchy smelly cloak of wool. Groceries loaded, My shame and I dive into the drivers seat and prepare to make a get away. Just as I am pulling out of my parking lane, there - blocking my path to freedom is PaPaw, pushing his cart. He glares at me with the condemnation of the righteous, Granny hobbling along behind - teetering on unsteady canes.
I have been home for some time now. The groceries are put away, and I have made my written confession (they say it is good for the soul). My face is still Scarlett, and I feel like I have swallowed a hot poker.....Just call me - The Biggest Boob in Town.
