c jane how was your Saturday?

my disgruntled face--my mother loves it

Well, since you asked.

It started out with a trip to Ashlee's chair where she did some magical thing with an instrument that blows hot air and suddenly my hair looked nice. I won't wash it until it starts to smell like wet leather or old pizza, this makes my life so simple. Plus, how attractive are shower caps? 70% attractive.

Then Chup and the little one met me at Costco for rice milk. Costco on Saturday morning in the heart of Utah Valley is like going to the zoo on a warm holiday without the animals. Or was that a gorilla buying butter?

(I practice these jokes beforehand.)

Costco on Saturday in Orem, Utah is a crowded, noisy, bumpy affair. If you persevere past all that, you are rewarded with a fifteen minute wait in line. For rice milk.

So we waited and waited in line until finally The Chief decided he wasn't going to wait anymore and tried to jump ship. Nearly dove out of the cart. You wonder why we didn't have him buckled in? We did. So stop wondering.

Our escapee took off running once I helped him walk the plank. He was interested in the la-Z-boys demonstration with the vibrating massage. Blame him?

In a split second, I ran to retrieve, while Chup watched. I turned around, wrestling the Costco pirate in my arms, and saw the line in front of us move. Before Chup could advance our cart forward, a white-haired lady with a pink-and-blue plaid button-down rapidly cut in line in front of us.

Oh yes she did.

With a big ol' cart of Costco loot. For the grandkids.

Let that sink in.

I was furious!

I started to say something, but my holier-than-me husband made a motion for me to zip it.

So I just stood there--a kicking infant in my arms--with my mouth looking like it could swallow the whole seafood section.

I simply would've said to the lady, Maybe you didn't notice that we were in line. We wouldn't have a problem with you going ahead, only I have an unsettled infant and a first trimester illness that won't let me smile for long periods of time. I can probably guess you've been where I've been before, and if so, you'd surely let us back into the line where we've been waiting with our rice milk.

Instead I seethed until Chup banished me to the outer parts of Costco where I could no longer project my disgruntled stare in her direction. And some thing, some hormone, some failing of spirit on my part could not forgive that lady all day long. Worst part being that frustration doesn't make me mad, it makes me sarcastic and snarky.

So my Saturday was dumpy.

Everyone I encountered asked, "What is your problem?"

And I answered every time, "A lady butt in line in front of me at Costco this morning."

Later that evening, after I had offended half my family and made Chup (almost) resort to tears twice, I realized I should probably just let it go. It was harder than I thought it would be. I even approached Chup twice just to see if I could keep the grudge. Just this once?

"No." He said. "But we can get out and buy you a little present."

I didn't get his line of reasoning, but I decided to trust him. He was right on. After an hour of shopping I had forgiven the Costco lady. Nearly forgotten the whole incident. Maybe I just needed attention. Maybe I just needed some new shoes. Maybe it is okay to put money to good use when nothing else seems to work?

I don't know.

Except, I will always be grateful for shower caps.

This much I do know.

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