Have you ever had a day where things go wrong and all you want to do is to climb into your comfy bed and hide under the covers? That was my day today.
It started out innocently enough- making breakfast, doing laundry, washing dishes. But then, I decided to leave the house. Not a good idea.
First stop, Goodwill with #1Son in tow. As I was looking in the skirt aisle I happened to see the woman who worked in the fabric department at WalMart many years ago. She was nearly an institution there, until her granddaughter was born and she retired to care for her.
I whispered "Hello. How are you?" across the skirts and we caught up on what had been happening in our lives in the past ten years. She remembered me bringing in my daughter and how Ainslie would sit on the cutting table as fabric was laid out and scissors slid through it. I told her that daughter was almost twenty now. "Time sure does go fast." was her reply. We chatted a bit more and with a "It was wonderful to see you." goodbye, I walked to housewares to see what treasures they might have. We met again. And again. And again.
It is one thing to have a sweet conversation with someone and quite another to have to keep fumbling for things to say as you bump into each other at every turn. Time to go.
I thought that Nathan and I would head to a few other thrift stores and then perhaps have a little lunch somewhere. I mentioned the restaurant at the State Farmer's Market and he countered with lunch at the DeKalb Farmer's Market. He won.
The entire way there I was planning what I would have for lunch. With an ever-so-colorful array of international foods, it is difficult to decide just what to eat.
I did a bit of shopping first, picking up fresh English peas, broccoli rabe, Brussel sprouts, some grass-fed ground beef and a lovely, plump roasting hen. (Don't tell the girls!)
We parked our cart and got into the line, ready to make our choices. I went down the salad side first. Onto my plate went spinach, spring greens, carrots, olives, cucumbers and thinly sliced Spanish onions. A few sunflower seeds sprinkled on the top for more crunch and my salad was ready for dressing. I chose blue cheese. Mistake. As I poured the dressing from its pitcher, great blobs of blue cheese fell out, followed by a mass of creamy liquid. Way too much. Oh, well. too late now.
I slipped across to the other side to see if they had lentil samosas. They did. Oh, yum.
You get a choice of lamb, beef, vegetable or lentil. I've not had the lamb, but the beef is good. The vegetable samosas consist of mashed potatoes filled with what look like yesterday's leftover veggies. They are not good. But the lentil is divine. Brown and green lentils, spiced with who-knows-what (but it's delicious) and enveloped in a crisply fried wrapping. Perhaps not the most healthy of things to eat, but heavenly nonetheless. As an afterthought, and with encouragement from Nathan, I ladled a bowlful of mushroom soup for myself.
Sliding my tray down the shiny metal bars of the food carts, the unthinkable happened. The corner of the tray caught up underneath the drink holder. I tried to maneuver it out and as I did, I overcompensated. The weight of the plate caused the tray to tip, which allowed the plate of blue cheese-drowned salad and the bowl of mushroom soup to fly through the air, with the greatest of ease.
I watched, helpless, as creamy broth and flecks of mushroom directed themselves towards the very bare legs of the man across from me. The salad spread itself on the floor, with dressing oozing around it like blood from a gunshot wound. I was horrified, embarrassed and unable to move.
At last gaining my senses, I offered the man my napkins to wipe the glop off of his legs, and bent down to begin cleaning up the mess that I had just made.
"No. Ma'am, no. They will clean it up." lilted across the register from the cashier, a pleasant Pakistani woman. She smiled at me and said it was okay. Not.
I looked at my tray and discovered that the lentil samosa was still there, snug in its paper bag.
I offered to pay for the lunch I had ruined, but was told it was not necessary. Accidents happen. I did pay for my samosa and Nathan's lunch and went to find a table where no one could see me.
I did my best to shrink away as I ate my lunch, which posed it's own set of problems. As I bit into it, lentils began to propel themselves out of the samosa, down my chin and onto my lap. Thank goodness my mother taught me to keep a napkin in my lap. It was there to catch the eighteen small, brown rounds of evilness.
I am not a big believer in karma, but there may, perhaps, be something to it. Maybe this was the result of me trying to dodge the WalMart fabric lady in the Goodwill. Maybe it was just a bad day. Who knows? But one thing is for sure-
I think I'll stay home tomorrow.