In which I do not have one of those days

No, this day has been absolutely singular thus far, and it's barely past lunchtime.

So far I have:

- reconnected with two different people from my ancient past, and been thoroughly tossed around by the consequent whirlwind of emotion and memory.

- inadvertantly insulted the pharmacist, then only apologized myself into an even deeper and stupider hole, and now I'm afraid he's going to spike my next refill.

- had a meltdown in the soup aisle. They really should not be allowed to play Carmen McRae in the supermarket. I hate crying while I shop. It smears my list and gets the coupons all wet.

- proposed an elopement, only partly in jest, to the woman who bagged my groceries perfectly. What's that? Do I have control issues around my groceries and their arrangement in the bag? Whatever would make you think such a thing?

- was relieved when she rejected my offer, because I'm already the international poster boy for Poor Verbal Impulse Control and don't need any more regrets in that department, thanks very much.

- and besides, really, I did most of the work for her. I always arrange everything on the belt in the order it should be packed. Cold & frozen together, fragile stuff at the end, all that. So unless she's really into Stargate Universe or Japanese bondage or Turkmen cuisine, and doesn't have any extra toes, it was probably a doomed relationship from the start.

- flipped off and hollered at the woman-hating pro-forced-childbirth protesters at the corner of 30 & 148 on my way home.

- realized that the woman I was yelling at was my Confirmation* sponsor 30 years ago, Mrs B. What's really interesting about this is, she was the RN who cared for my mother at home as she was dying, and -- well, there's no point being delicate about this -- when it was time, she pushed her enough morphine to ease her out of her pain and out of this world.

- felt terrible, because that one good deed way more than balances out her miniscule contribution to the anti-choice asshattery, and I'll flatten anyone who says it doesn't. In this case, compassion trumps hypocrisy.

- and to be fair, she was holding the least offensive sign out of the group: "Adoption is the Loving Choice." Change that the to an a and you'll get no argument from me there.

- learned why it's not a good idea to hold a 2-liter bottle of coke between your knees while you attempt to slam the tailgate shut with your arms full.

- as a direct result of the item immediately above, eneded up with a raggedy splinter in my palm, and a rock salt rash on my elbow.

And that's just the first half of the day. Where it may go from there, I dare not consider.

*It's Stephen, in case you care. And I know I can't be the only person who wishes in retrospect that he'd hit the bishop back.