I went to the store today.

I had planned to write a huge funny post about going to Wal-Mart, and why I have to go to Wal-Mart as opposed to Target or somewhere cool.
But I went to Wal-Mart, and spent two hours and $150 there. In the middle of the day. And I knew the cashier having worked with her before. So she decided to chat.
I did mention I don't like people, right?
Oh! And this weird old lady came up and was pinching the pudge on Jack's leg talking about how cute he was. Don't touch my baby, weird old lady! I was mentally sending Joe the message to start pushing the cart away. Luckily we were done being rung up ($150 in food at Wal-Mart. It took a while. Aldi is the only place $150 would go further)

Ok, so I guess I am telling you about the trip anyway. Except now that I think about it I told you the remotely funny and creepy parts. I didn't run into anyone I'd slept with before. I swear every time I used to go to the store I'd see someone. It's not that many, I just have really wretched luck and Rolla is not very big so the odds are good.

I have a love hate relationship with Wal-Mart. In that I hate everything about it but the prices.
I worked at this Wal-Mart before too, which OH MY GOD makes me hate it more. But that was seven years ago, so the bile is lessened a bit. Especially since most of the people I worked with are no longer there. People generally make it less than a year or stay there forever. Ever notice all those ten and fifteen year nametags? They depress me.

Anyway, I go to Wal-Mart because the other choices in Rolla are Country Mart, a really skanky Kroger, and Aldi. I've been known to go to Aldi. It's a price thing, I am a cheapskate. But Aldi is more depressing than Wal-Mart and I have a deep ingrained fear of turning into that lady with the five kids who hasn't bathed in a month. I am a terrible snob.
So I go to Wal-Mart and revel in the inexpensive food. And toiletries. Oh, and bra top camisoles. I have really big boobs, and haven't been able to go bra-less since the eighth grade, so those are heaven to me.

Tomorrow we get to go pick up Caleb from the bitch from hell. Looking forward to that like drug free labor.
Then Friday I get to go see the future in-laws, which I am so dreading. Today on the phone Joe's mom goes through her routine: Is Maleah working? Why not? You (Joe) help with the baby? If she's not working she should be able to take care of him all the time. Why aren't you working at the place your father wants you to work? Why does it matter if you don't like that kind of work?
On and on and on. I swear to God. We stayed there for a week over Christmas and I thought I was going to shed blood. Not mine, oh no, most definitely not mine.
The thing is? She's not a terrible person. She can be very nice at times, and thoughtful on occasion. She's just had a hard life. The problem being she hates that anyone has anything easier than she did, and she expects everyone to be miserable. She always complains how Joe's dad never helped with the night feedings (they had seven kids) but she expects Joe to dump it all on me just the same. There's no logic.

I know you wish you were me.