Thanks to the longer days, Chris and I have been walking with Mac in the evenings after dinner. Sometimes we even take dinner to the park with us and hang out there for a little while. All this park time leads to talking. . .eck
One evening earlier this week, Chris made a comment in this kinda’ snorty, passive aggressive way, that I never took Mac anywhere. Since I take Mac somewhere local nearly every day, I assumed this snide remark referred to the fact that I never took Mac on any errands requiring a car. And that’s true. If I can help it, I do not take Mac to the grocery or the pet store or Target or Walmart.
It’s a pain in the ass. My car barely accommodates both of us. Plus groceries? Its nearly microscopic trunk is full of computer stuff that we planned to dispose of in an environmentally responsible fashion. Instead, I’ve been driving that shit around for a year.
But the biting nature of Chris’ comment wasn’t forgotten. I vowed that Mac and I would go somewhere in the car. Yesterday, I made it happen.
Despite Mac’s flip the eff out while I was packing up our gear, I got us out the door by 11:00. We went to the Broadway Diner for pancakes and fruit salad. At first Mac was a little shy with people but before long he was hamming it up for everyone. We enjoyed a leisurely brunch laughing with the waitress and the hostess and the folks in the booth behind us, I said a silent smug jam it to my husband, and headed to Walmart.
I want you to know I’m anti-Walmart. It’s vile. I’ve never been in a Walmart that didn’t disgust me on some level. I know this sounds harsh. I can’t help myself. Unfortunately, this particular Walmart is not far from our home and really all I needed was some Easter basket candy and balsamic vinegar.
I park the car in the spot next to the handicapped spots directly in front of the store. I can’t extract Mac from the car because there is some guy in the spot next to me in a gigantic truck smoking a cigarette unloading his Rascal scooter off the back via some kinda crazy hydraulic lift. I ask him how his day is and he responds “No use complaining.” I patiently wait afraid to say much more. He’s also brandishing an inflatable hemorrhoid donut.
Mac and I are greeted more warmly at the door. He’s in the snuggy wrap and the women greeters swoon at his cuteness. We go through the store and I plop him in the cart for a few minutes. Fuck, he licked the cart.
We exit the joint relatively unscathed. By now he was tired and I had put him back in the wrap. Fortunately, grumpy Rascal scooter guy is gone. Mac goes in still asleep. Bags go in. I’m about to get in. . .WHAT THE SHITDAMNMEFFER?!
There in my 11 year old pristine canvas convertible top is an 8 inch slash. Clearly someone tried to cut through the top to get to the armed door handle. There wasn’t anything visible in the car but the baby car seat and they clearly failed in their attempt.
In all these years of street parking in the city, no one has ever bothered my car. However, in broad daylight, in a Walmart parking lot, which is under video surveillance, they did. I call Chris. I call the insurance carrier. I try to call Walmart but it seems their phones are out. Shocker.
I was angry for a few minutes. But then I just felt thankful. I’m thankful that I’ve never been so desperate that I had to ruin someone else’s property. I’m thankful that it was just the car and not Mac that was assaulted in the process. I’m thankful that it was just a comparatively little cut in the roof (they made two other attempts at the top). I’m thankful I didn’t happen upon those little fucktards in the act because I would have restrained them until they were pleading for their mamas. Assholes.
Husband, this is why I should just take Mac to the park or the waterfront or the library. Snark on that.