THAT Lady

Today, I was THAT lady.

I woke up in the morning to find only one contact lens in my case. Like a drug addict, I searched the whole house for a spare, looking in every purse and drawer while cursing profusely, as though this magic combination of profanities would make the contact gods take pity on me. While my frustration was inadequate to say the least, I cut myself some slack as I fully understood that getting a box of contacts today would be a nearly impossible and likely a very expensive undertaking. In fact, I think I’d have a much easier time buying me some crack. You can’t get contacts without a current prescription and I don’t have a current prescription, so I called Wal-Mart. Donald, the receptionist, was SUPER nice, but informed me that it would be against the law for him to sell me contacts without the proper authorization (proper authorization resides in Brooklyn and is on vacation). “Donald, please, I really really really need them for tomorrow. My daughter is getting surgery and I have to be able to drive!” I pleaded on the phone. I had to stop myself from saying “I’ll do anything” to this nice man. I do own one pair of glasses, the one that makes me look like a young orthodox Jewish mother exercising on Ocean Parkway in a below-the-knee skirt, but Maddie stretched them out and they keep falling off. The ones that made me look like an 8th grade spelling bee winner are broken after Maddie got a hold of them. After about six calls back and forth, Donald said he could possibly release the two boxes to me if I got there before 2:30.

So I got there as soon as I could, looking horrible with messed up hair, a questionable outfit and a screaming toddler. Maddie, who is normally a well-behaved, though independent young lady, was pretty impossible. After filling out multiple forms and telling Donald what a fine human being he is for helping me out, I couldn’t resist a little shopping in that fine establishment. Of course, like a true idiot, who just grabs anything that screams “organic” on the package and has a picture of a decent looking baby, I grabbed some biscuits for Maddie – only to pull one of them out of her mouth as I read that the deliciousness was made in China. To reward myself for such a successful trip and for not losing my shit as Maddie cried on the never-ending line, I stopped by Old Navy. “That’s a nice little sweatshirt…” thought I…”Let me go try it on…” WHAT THE FUCK?! Nice sweatshirt? Try it on?

Our next stop? Wendy’s drive-thru! That’s right! Regretting my decision to pull into that hell hole, I reluctantly order a salad. Then regretting that decision again as I look at the calories, I revise the order to half a salad…and fries. We drove home with the Music Together CD blasting in my “fuck you mobile.” The fuel efficiency meter read 14.7 miles per gallon. That’s the life. The man on the CD really worked on his Russian-sounding Rs as he sang something that sounded “ran tan tan tannaa..ran tan tanaaa ran ran.” Maddie liked it and quietly sang along. Taking the opportunity to eat at the traffic light, I shoved some lettuce in my mouth with bare hands and looked at the lady in the car next to us, realizing what a sorry, but not uncommon, spectacle I was.

Tomorrow will be a better day, I am convinced. And today wasn’t that bad, of course. And the sweatshirt fit quite nicely and I’ll be wearing it for years, I am sure.

P.S. Back to the bumper stickers, a car parked in front of Wal-Mart, had one that read: “An American by Birth. A Biker by Choice. A Patriot Forever.” You go, man, you show’em! Fool me once…