Soon, I will go grocery shopping.
On a Saturday morning.
During the holidays.
It will be ok, though. After all, I did part of a yoga workout dvd this morning.
I took a long, relaxing shower and spent an equally long, relaxing time on Facebook, letting my hair air-dry into an unflattering frizz (nothing a Santa hat can't hide, amirite?).
I will drive to Biggby's drive-thru and order a latte. I will sip it as I browse through the grocery store. I won't spill it all over my favorite, freshly washed “Namaste in Bed” shirt.
I will be Zen.
I will enjoy my refreshing walk in the bitter cold from the credit union, because some small-dicked d-bag in an oversize truck double-parked in the last remaining spaces in Meijer's car lot.
When that old woman cuts in front of me and then parks her shopping cart in the middle of the aisle, I will take a deep, healing breath and say, “Merry Christmas!” to her.
I will not punctuate my greeting by flipping her the bird.
I will close my eyes briefly to fully experience the cheer of holiday music sweeping through the store when that toddler in the international foods aisle decides to throw down with a blood-curdling scream.
I will not focus on the petty things, like that trashy-ass bitch stomping on my foot and taking the last of the canned french-cut green beans. I will instead search the store to find items that bring me joy, like a cinammon-apple scented candle or Taylor Swift's album Reputation.
I will not grind my teeth and swear like Samuel L. Jackson when there are only two cashiers and the check-out lines fall back to the clothing department. Instead, I will put in my earbuds and delight in YouTube videos on my phone while I wait to pay for all this overpriced holiday shit that I don't want to bake or wrap or clean with anyway.
Shopping in December is all part of the holiday experience, and we should all take a moment to appreciate the simple beauty in being out in the community and sharing in the festivities.
Although I'd rather namaste in bed.