What Happened to the Milk?

I started out this morning being mad at this lady. I don't actually know her. In fact, I've never seen her. All I knew is that it was her fault that my husband forgot to bring home the milk from the grocery store yesterday.

Here's the story: Brian went to the grocery store to pick up a few essentials (milk, cheese, lettuce, fruit) because we're operating on one car right now and the snow is making that one car thing even slightly more complicated. I also had him buy sour cream because I ran out and needed more for another recipe. Oh, actually, I was planning to run out, but forgot to put sour cream in the baked potato soup so I didn't actually run out. The soup was still good, but I have more sour cream than planned in the fridge right now. But I digress.....

This morning, I realized I had never seen him bring in any milk. That was the thing I needed more than anything else. I felt annoyed. It turns out, he did buy it. He just was getting crowded out of self-checkout by a lady who could not seem to wait her turn in a civilized fashion. So....he left the milk there by accident. I took the opportunity to discuss my "boxing out" method when people are trying to physically crowd me. (It's a basketball term. It comes in very handy for people with a high personal space need like me. It is also handy for short people like me who are often crowding victims. I haven't watched all these years of Brian playing and coaching basketball for nothing. I can't shoot a basket to save my life, but I suspect I would be a fierce rebounder.....if I was on a team of short people....) I then proceeded to work up to some righteous (OK, not sure if it was righteous) indigation about how we tell children to wait their turn, but adults totally lose their ever-loving minds if they have to wait their turn. I had mentally drafted the first chapter of my best-selling book about the loss of manners and the loss of the ability to wait and how God teaches us so much in times of waiting.

As for the lady? I could have described her to a police sketch artist, even having never seen her. I think she's been behind me in line at several stores recently. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've boxed her out. Frankly, on certain less-than-noteable days, I've probably seen her in my bathroom mirror.

Oh, actually, as it turns out.....the milk was in the trunk of the car. Again, I find a reason to be grateful for these cold, cold temps. Perfectly refrigerated milk.