and then a saga
This is a very pathetic story. I'm kind of not sure why I'm telling it? But you always hear things about how "OH, TALK IT OUT, YOU'LL FEEL BETTER" or whatnot, so what the hell. Maybe, by posting this, I'll manage to uncover the shred of dignity that this story has left me.
Anyways, if my life is going to be laughable regardless, then by God I will make it be laughable on purpose.
This is the story of the day that Anne failed at purchasing candy.
It was not a proud day.
This day (which was maybe a month ago? ish?) was just kind of a standard late spring day. Classes were over, and, having lost my job several months prior, I really had nothing to do. So, I wasted time. I hung out at the house all day doing nonsense on the internet, chatting with people (including my boyfriend), and attempting to ignore the waves of disappointment rolling off of my parents every time they walked past their unwashed, pantsless, grown-ass daughter as they went about their business doing responsible things that grown folk do.
As I say, it was a pretty normal day.
So at some point during the evening, I was struck by a thought. "Reese's," I thought. "Those things are delicious, aren't they? Shit, I want to go get some!" I suspect that I was helped along in this desire by my boyfriend, who's kind of a terrible human being when it comes to encouraging my lust for candy.
By the way, when I said "evening", I meant "night".
So at some point I made a crack about my mom being worried I'll get shot on a late-night grocery run, because my mother is kind of paranoid when it comes to her baby girl, and because I sometimes forget that anyone who doesn't live in Durham (or a place very like it) is physically incapable of understanding just how proud we are of how fucking sketch we are as a city. I imagine my Detroit-area Michigander(s) understand it. It's a weird sort of city pride thing. But the point is, my boyfriend became adorably worried. He needed to get to bed, because he sometimes goes to work like a normal adult human person, but he made me promise that I would be safe. He told me this in a way that, to me, said, "Well, set off now, then."
I was not ready for this.
But I kind of felt like, if I didn't set out, I would disappoint him. I felt like this because my brain works like that. So, I put on pants (sigh), and I put on a bra (sigh), and I even popped a Ritalin, because I wanted to be safe. I gathered up my purse (making sure that my wallet and cell phone were safely zipped inside), left a note for my parents in case my father woke up at three in the morning again because parents are insane, and went down to the basement. Making sure I turned on the driveway light, I all but sprinted to my car, because ROACHES ARE A POSSIBILITY.
Safely in my car, I had reached the easy part of my trip. You see, I like driving. It's kind of fun. It's something that adults do, and it's also something that I do. It shows that I am successful and responsible. It is something at which I succeed. So, I drove the five (or so) minutes to the grocery store. I was very proud of myself for looking out for deer, cats, possums, raccoons, foxes, squirrels, or crazy people who go out for post-midnight jogs in black sweatshirts-- all of which I have encountered in the past. I made it successfully out of the neighborhood, past the post office, and down the road past the library without any incident.
This is where it gets pathetic. (Okay, the pantsless and unshowered part was also probably a little pathetic.) As I pulled into the large, well-lit parking lot of the grocery store, I saw something. The employees all seemed to be outside. Well, not all. The security guard was not outside, and probably one or two of the others were inside as well. What I mean is that six or seven people were sitting outside on what I suspect was their night shift lunch break, perched on whatever seasonal display was outdoors at the time.
And they all saw me drive in.
There are two doors at my grocery store, of the automatic sliding type. One of those doors is locked between the hours of perhaps ten at night and six in the morning. The employees were all just to the side of the other door. As I put my car into park, in the lot that clearly only held their cars, I was struck by a sudden feeling. That feeling could best be described as the voice of insecurity, depression, and projection.
Because if I was in their place, I knew what I would have been thinking. "Who the hell drives to the grocery store at three in the morning just for some Reese's? Is that why she's fat? Wait, is that that girl who bought Cheetos and cookie dough that one time? What a fatass!" I could just feel the judgement rolling towards me.
(This is perhaps an excellent time to mention that I don't always feel quite this insecure, and if you were preparing to freak out, it's appreciated, but not very necessary.)
So, I sat there. I decided that I would count to ten, and then get out of that car and buy the hell out of some Reese's. I would show them. I had worth as a person. I had eaten a salad the other day! I was owed candy. Who were these assholes to be judging me anyways?!
Needless to say, I did not, in fact, exit the car at the count of ten. Nor did I exit it at the next count of ten-- nor yet the next. I'm not sure how long, exactly, I sat there-- but eventually I admitted defeat. I turned my car back on, drove out the other end of the parking lot (so as not to pass close enough for them to register my face, perhaps recognize me, and file my identity away for future shaming), and went home.
Did I mention I've been trying to save gas this summer?
So, yes. To summarize: I caused my boyfriend to become concerned for my very safety. I wasted gas. I killed the planet a bit by means of that wasted gas. I wasted time that I could have been spending on useful things. I terribly confused half a dozen innocent bystanders.
And I can't even say that at least I didn't eat the candy, 'cause know what?
The next day, during normal people hours?
I just bought a bigger bag of Reese's.
Anyways, if my life is going to be laughable regardless, then by God I will make it be laughable on purpose.
This is the story of the day that Anne failed at purchasing candy.
It was not a proud day.
This day (which was maybe a month ago? ish?) was just kind of a standard late spring day. Classes were over, and, having lost my job several months prior, I really had nothing to do. So, I wasted time. I hung out at the house all day doing nonsense on the internet, chatting with people (including my boyfriend), and attempting to ignore the waves of disappointment rolling off of my parents every time they walked past their unwashed, pantsless, grown-ass daughter as they went about their business doing responsible things that grown folk do.
As I say, it was a pretty normal day.
So at some point during the evening, I was struck by a thought. "Reese's," I thought. "Those things are delicious, aren't they? Shit, I want to go get some!" I suspect that I was helped along in this desire by my boyfriend, who's kind of a terrible human being when it comes to encouraging my lust for candy.
By the way, when I said "evening", I meant "night".
So at some point I made a crack about my mom being worried I'll get shot on a late-night grocery run, because my mother is kind of paranoid when it comes to her baby girl, and because I sometimes forget that anyone who doesn't live in Durham (or a place very like it) is physically incapable of understanding just how proud we are of how fucking sketch we are as a city. I imagine my Detroit-area Michigander(s) understand it. It's a weird sort of city pride thing. But the point is, my boyfriend became adorably worried. He needed to get to bed, because he sometimes goes to work like a normal adult human person, but he made me promise that I would be safe. He told me this in a way that, to me, said, "Well, set off now, then."
I was not ready for this.
But I kind of felt like, if I didn't set out, I would disappoint him. I felt like this because my brain works like that. So, I put on pants (sigh), and I put on a bra (sigh), and I even popped a Ritalin, because I wanted to be safe. I gathered up my purse (making sure that my wallet and cell phone were safely zipped inside), left a note for my parents in case my father woke up at three in the morning again because parents are insane, and went down to the basement. Making sure I turned on the driveway light, I all but sprinted to my car, because ROACHES ARE A POSSIBILITY.
Safely in my car, I had reached the easy part of my trip. You see, I like driving. It's kind of fun. It's something that adults do, and it's also something that I do. It shows that I am successful and responsible. It is something at which I succeed. So, I drove the five (or so) minutes to the grocery store. I was very proud of myself for looking out for deer, cats, possums, raccoons, foxes, squirrels, or crazy people who go out for post-midnight jogs in black sweatshirts-- all of which I have encountered in the past. I made it successfully out of the neighborhood, past the post office, and down the road past the library without any incident.
This is where it gets pathetic. (Okay, the pantsless and unshowered part was also probably a little pathetic.) As I pulled into the large, well-lit parking lot of the grocery store, I saw something. The employees all seemed to be outside. Well, not all. The security guard was not outside, and probably one or two of the others were inside as well. What I mean is that six or seven people were sitting outside on what I suspect was their night shift lunch break, perched on whatever seasonal display was outdoors at the time.
And they all saw me drive in.
There are two doors at my grocery store, of the automatic sliding type. One of those doors is locked between the hours of perhaps ten at night and six in the morning. The employees were all just to the side of the other door. As I put my car into park, in the lot that clearly only held their cars, I was struck by a sudden feeling. That feeling could best be described as the voice of insecurity, depression, and projection.
Because if I was in their place, I knew what I would have been thinking. "Who the hell drives to the grocery store at three in the morning just for some Reese's? Is that why she's fat? Wait, is that that girl who bought Cheetos and cookie dough that one time? What a fatass!" I could just feel the judgement rolling towards me.
(This is perhaps an excellent time to mention that I don't always feel quite this insecure, and if you were preparing to freak out, it's appreciated, but not very necessary.)
So, I sat there. I decided that I would count to ten, and then get out of that car and buy the hell out of some Reese's. I would show them. I had worth as a person. I had eaten a salad the other day! I was owed candy. Who were these assholes to be judging me anyways?!
Needless to say, I did not, in fact, exit the car at the count of ten. Nor did I exit it at the next count of ten-- nor yet the next. I'm not sure how long, exactly, I sat there-- but eventually I admitted defeat. I turned my car back on, drove out the other end of the parking lot (so as not to pass close enough for them to register my face, perhaps recognize me, and file my identity away for future shaming), and went home.
Did I mention I've been trying to save gas this summer?
So, yes. To summarize: I caused my boyfriend to become concerned for my very safety. I wasted gas. I killed the planet a bit by means of that wasted gas. I wasted time that I could have been spending on useful things. I terribly confused half a dozen innocent bystanders.
And I can't even say that at least I didn't eat the candy, 'cause know what?
The next day, during normal people hours?
I just bought a bigger bag of Reese's.