(Seriously, what is it about those cookies? Are they so delicious because we can only get them part of the year, or do they bake crack in with the batter? All I know is it was a blessing and a curse when Miss Pink became a Girl Scout. I have a trunk full of cookies and that is a dangerous thing.)
Anyway, I have some thoughts to share about the Mall of Warts, as I call Sam Walton's brainchild.
1. First of all, the Wart-Mall and I have a love-hate relationship. It's the closest store to my house and also the cheapest. On everything. If I go to any other store I inevitably end up complaining about the prices. W-M also price matches any item that another store is offering for a lower price, so I save quite a few dollars that way. IF W-M actually has the item. Things are often out of stock there, or else shelved in some wacky place where it wasn't located last week. This week they didn't have avocados. In Texas. How do they expect us to manage without our guacamole? So occasionally I have to go to HEB or Aldi, which is a nice change but I always come crawling back to W-M.
Wart-Mall, I wish I could quit you.
2. I am an impatient person. I wish it weren't so, but I am. I can't stand to be behind someone who is barely moving down the aisles. I try to remember that most of them can't help it, but really, people, if you are that slow, the polite thing to do is scoot over to the far side of the aisle and let the rest of us pass you. Yet some people block the aisles while they locate the perfect can of beans and act like they don't even notice the line of carts backing up into the frozen foods. I bet they are the same people who drive my husband crazy by going 40 miles per hour in the fast lane.
3. W-M should give a raise to the cashier who checked me out tonight. Not only was she efficient and fast, she was also friendly and hilarious. She told me about her 99-year-old great-grandmother who has been married 80 years. I told her that was the longest I had ever heard of anyone being married.The cashier's great-grandfather is barely hanging on, and her great-grandma says he needs to go ahead and die.
"Ohhh, does she hate to see him suffer?" I asked sympathetically.
"No," she said. "She's eyeballing other men." We laughed. "She's a mess."
99 years old and looking for her second husband. That just made my night, even if I never did get any avocados.
