It was a rainy and stormy Saturday, which I did not mind because I had finally broken down and decided to clean my apartment. The mold in the sink and fridge had gotten past the point of experimental and was looking for a showdown to take me out. This is my signal that I need to fight back or succumb to the toxins wishes. That day I had chosen to fight back and clean.
Side note: if you did not decipher from the above that I am not a cleaner, here it is in more simpler terms; I am not a cleaner. As a child when my family would clean the house I would start working with them and five minutes into the project tell them I have to go to the bathroom. This is where I would remain for the rest of cleaning day. Hanging out, brushing my hair, pretending to be a princess with a toilet paper tiara. There were five children in the family so if one of them was missing who was going to know?? They all knew. Years of torturous teasing has been the payback for my bathroom frolics. If given the chance though, I would do it all again... don't tell anyone.
Back to my original story, this day I had cleaned or what could be construed as my version of cleaning. I clean for 15 minutes straight, no stopping. Then I stop for a break... supposed to be 15 minutes sometimes longer... then clean for another 15 minutes, no stopping. Take another break, those 15 minutes of cleaning are hard. At some point I realize I need groceries, this happened when I discarded the moldy food projects I had festering in my fridge. With them out of the picture it was time to get some new vegetables to start mold battle again. It would have been smart before going to the grocery store to take a shower and put on clean clothes. It would have been wise to brush my hair and my teeth. But I was headed to the local Walmart, I was not concerned about what I looked like I thought there was no way I looked as bad as the pictures I see in the Walmart emails. Oh how wrong I was.
I had been shopping for 20 minutes or so, long enough to realize my fatal mistake would not go unnoticed to the other shoppers, when I came upon a display of mirrors. It was then I saw who I was in this moment, hair standing straight up, cheerio stuck to my cheek, shirt riding too high, shorts riding too low, granny panties showing for the world to see, and black sparkly mary jane shoes on my feet with white socks, I had become the ultimate Walmart shopper. If someone had taken my picture I would have belonged on the email. I would like to say I ran screaming from the building, I would like to say that I scraped the cheerio off of my cheek, but all I did was pull my shirt down and pull up my big girl shorts up and continue to shop. There comes a point in time when everyone must admit we belong at the Walmart.
