The wife and I were picking up photo prints from Sams Club yesterday afternoon. ..Part of a desperate attempt to make our house look like something out of one of those home design magazines in time for her mom’s visit. DeAnja worked voraciously. And cracked voracious whips in my direction. She did everything, ..except for placing sporadic colorful bowls everywhere to achieve balance.
I’m glad my family knows that I’m a slob. Good that I don’t have to keep up appearances that I have it all together. Apparently DeAnja would like to prove to her mom that yes, she can live with Drew and, somehow still maintain higher levels of tremendous organized style. It’s amazing. You guys should see her in action.
Anyway, leaving Sams Club, miraculously avoiding the five gallon impulse purchase of cheeseballs and only holding our photos, that lady who stands by the door checking everybody’s receipts said the usual “Thank you have a nice day” in the most awful pathetic manner. Her facial expression and tone of voice said something different, like: “I hate myself and I hate my life and every one of you stupid people in line with your stupid receipts I’m going to stab myself in the face with a sharpened spoon.”
It was awesome.
Photos in hand, walking toward our car, DeAnja and I had just finishing up laughing about this lady when we strolled past a group of 5 individuals hastily eating fried chicken inside a brand-new yet somehow incredibly dirty Lincoln Towncar out in the hot parking lot.
At this point I tell DeAnja that our culture is no longer in a mere state of decline, but rather some sort of freefall. She agreed.
