Clean Up on Aisle 9

I’m a bit under the weather. Nothing major, just enough to completely fuck up my busy week. When I’m sick, I’m a complete baby. Only I don’t want anyone fussing over me. I just want to sit in a corner and pout. Yeah, I know, lovely character trait. My Beloved has long since adjusted. He knows how to strike the perfect balance between nurturing and avoiding the freak show. And I love him for that, among a billion other things.

In my quest for sick self-sufficiency, I dropped by the local grocery chain for some canned soup. Progresso Hearty Chicken Noodle, to be precise. It soothes me when I’m feeling icky. When I got to the soup aisle, it was clogged. Two women were standing, back-to-back, each perusing different products. One was an average, non-descript woman. The other was a tall, willowy blonde, sharply and expensively dressed, and carrying one of those giant designer purses that are all the rage now.

Poking into the aisle was an endcap of cheesy Valentine’s cards. Sort of a cross between the ones we handed out to classmates when we were kids and the more elaborate, embellished ones Hallmark gags us with annually.

So, given the traffic jam, I parked myself discreetly out of everyone’s way and waited for the ladies to make their selections.

Miss Big Bag was apparently one of those people who is blissfully unaware of her surroundings, I’m guessing so that she doesn’t have to feel like one of the masses. As she shifted to get a closer look at the canned goods, her purse knocked an entire section of cards off the end cap. It was a rather noisy affair, so Plain Jane turned to look. And that’s when it got weird.

Miss Big Bag looked at Plain Jane with that condescending “Oh you poor clumsy dear” face. AS IF JANE HAD DONE THE DAMAGE. And Jane bought it, kneeling down and beginning to pick up the cards. Then, as I stood there with my mouth hanging open, Miss Big Bag deigned to kneel down to “help.”

I waited for the detritus to be cleared, grabbed my soup and bolted. But I was absolutely gobsmacked by the woman’s cluelessness. Did she really not know that she had done it? Was she really that clueless? Or was she just a West Austin bitch who had become bored with running people off the road with her Suburban. Either way, it was a nice bit of street theater. But it didn't make me feel any better.