It Must Be Catching

Sitting for a cool-down after chores yesterday, I felt a tugging on my shoe and automatically thought it was Ralph.  The poor guy gets blamed for everything, but I was wrong this time.  It was a little like watching Eleanor Roosevelt or the Queen of England rolling in the dirt, it was so uncharacteristic to see sedate Celeste going through ecstatic contortions.

If I didn't know better, I'd think I'd walked through a patch of catnip.  (I don't want to think about what I might have stepped in to have this effect.)  It could just be that Ralph's silliness has rubbed off on Celeste.

It was a perfectly gorgeous day (mid 70s), and how did I spend it?  On a trip to town.  I almost called ahead to make sure the ink I needed was in stock, but nah, Walmart would surely have it.  I took it as a good omen when I hit the three traffic lights in town green and there was an open parking spot right in front of the door.  Picking up a cabbage and some extra onions (insurance) on the way, I headed to the electronics aisle.  Imagine my sinking feeling when I saw the shelf where my ink should be was bare.  It took two older helper elves and one young one to decide that they were, in fact, out of stock.  Young dude offered to go in the back and double check.  I got an exercise in patience while I waited.  And waited.  About the time I'd decided that perhaps Elvis had left the building, he came back with not the single black I needed but a combo pack with color ink also.  Desperate, I thanked him for his effort and snatched it from his hand.  And went to wait, and wait some more, in the checkout line.  A simple one-stop shopping trip took three hours.  Aarrgh.