Today was my first day in the past few weeks having the house completely to myself, and not having work or anything. Yesterday my parents went back to their jobs, and my sister went back to school, but I also had to work, yeah, still hate it. But today I had an entire uninterrupted day of supposed leisure, even though I still have yet to complete the organization of my room and I'm pretty sure I was supposed to do some laundry today. (On a completely unrelated subject I would like to mention that I currently have a loose thread on the hem of my sleeve that is really annoying me. I've now torn it off and all is well.)
The only really interesting thing that happened to me today was at lunch time. Mom gave me permission to eat the remaining taco soup from the refrigerator, which I very much was looking forward to. Little did I know before the reheating of said taco soup that I realized we were out of shredded cheese. Frantically, I telephoned my mother to explain my predicament. Of course, she was at work, so there was really nothing she could do about it. But I was distraught. How could I enjoy the last wonderful bowl of my mother's taco soup without shredded cheese? Was I to let the wonderful sour cream go solo in this beautiful performance for the taste buds? No, sir. I was not.
So I went to the grocery store. I put my hair up in a ponytail (so as to avoid the "I just escaped the asylum" look), got in Margo (my car), and drove to the store.
Grocery stores have always given me interchangeable feelings of intimidation and pride. It's a place for grown-ups to purchase all of the necessities of life, food, water, sugary cereals, etc. Being in one makes me almost grown-up. However, I feel I'm not meant to be grown-up, and the imposing shelves higher than the top of my head give me a sense of unworthiness. I'm not supposed to be there, and they know it.
I quickly found the cheese (and cereal and cookie dough besides) and made my way to the line. I purchased my groceries, and returned home to safety. I then lovingly prepared my taco soup to perfection, first sprinkling in the cheese, then spooning out a dollop of sour cream. After I finished, I went to the cabinet for the corn chips. Only to find them gone.
It goes without saying that I had my first bowl of taco soup sans corn chips. There was no way I was going back out into the rain. Or leaving the house at all.
But these things happen. They make you appreciate the small things like shredded cheese, corn chips, and dry feet.
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