Those packages of mix you add to your water should really come with an explicit warning label: "Do not use if you are accident prone, hyper, nervous, half-asleep, or Holly."
I just opened my water and added my orange-strawberry-banana flavoring - all over my desk, mouse, stapler, leg, hand and foot.
Yeah, I'm THAT good.
I should've known that bad karma was floating my way when I went back to the store That Shall Not Be Named. Yes - the one with the initials H.D. and is a wide dissapointer of home improvement nut jobs throughout the continental U.S.
It started out okay - I was a good little customer - went in through the slow, swishing front doors to look for a specific product: Glitter.
I looked all around the paint department while the little paint chick "helped" another couple (and by "helped" I mean stared at them blankly while they tried to explain the color of stain needed). Searching in aisle after aisle I found: spray paint glitter, gold leaf, a star roller, three different sponging technique applicators and a gazillion signs for the home depot credit card. But no glitter to paint additive.
So I went to the counter where the male member of the aforementioned couple was reaching his breaking point: "This is NOT the same color as this one. See?" More blank-staring from the chick in the orange apron. "It's really not the same. See? This one is much darker than this one. See?" the wife gently pleaded with the sales associate who looked at me, standing, non-threateningly off to the side of the paint counter.
And then she looked away. I was PISSED. There I was, perched on top of my work heels, waiting patiently for her to finish with the angry duo in front of me so that I may ask her a simple question and I don't even get a "It'll be just one minute, ma'am" or a simple "Can I get someone else to assist you?" Nope. Nothing.
So when she walks past me to get another bucket of paint I catch her and say: "HI! I JUST HAD A QUICK QUESTION - DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING LIKE A GLITTER PACKET YOU ADD TO PAINT?" I really didn't mean to talk to her like she was hard of hearing - but Iwanted to make sure I was well understood.
"We don't carry 'at." She mumbled and then scurried off.
"Well." I was a bit stunned. I shouldn't have been. But I was. She didn't even apologize - just ran off like a rat with its tail on fire. "Well - SHE was friendly!" I practically yelled and as I stormed off, heels clicking on the cold, hard concrete floor, I could hear the angry couple in front of me in line voicing their agreement.
I walked out and plopped into Harry's car: "Home Depot sucks."
"They didn't have it?" he asked.
"Want me to go in and look for it."
"Home Depot sucks."
"I know, baby. I know..."
And - we still haven't decided on a car. Harry's wheelin' and dealin' and I'm whinin' and cryin' - it all evens out...