Wal Martians Will Get Me

If this blog makes you nervous or anxious then you know that you have Wal-Mart phobia. Wal-Mart's lot was soooo empty this morning as we left home at 6:00 am to breach the enemy's doors. Why such an ungodly hour? Because then Eddy gets to see me squirm without the distraction of hundred's of shoppers hellbent on destruction and chaos. Something about the whole Walton experience just gives me the hives. I used to pay Jake off with big money to go to Wal-Mart and once went 6 months without physically treading the hallowed aisles myself. My stomach just aches like an acid boiler when faced with 15 kinds of peanut butter. I have no problem shopping in a mall, but when it comes down to it, a mall is not Wal-Mart.
Something about the shampoo stretching on for acres triggers some massive, repressed by the Ice Ages , innate fear of mine that I won't choose the right one, or maybe the wrong one. Could be I don't really need shampoo and I start to think of the money I'm spending. Before you know it, I'm distracted by the music and the "associate or checker or busboy" constant calling above my head. So I just get every shampoo in reach of my herbal essensed over-worked head. And on the mania goes, up and down every stretch of the tiled floor.
What he finds so amusing is that I, and maybe other women, want to smell all of the shampoo. I just wanted, today, a plain ordinary smell, like clean hair. But before I knew it, I was lost in a rain forest of fruity, green, heavy, thick shampoo.
I want to eat coconut in a Mounds or Almond Joy bar, not smell it forever clinging to every strand of hair. This is when the itchy, "get a therapist" feeling begins to roll over me, and I ended up with no shampoo. Eddy just calmly looked it all over and put 2 of his no-name industrial bottles in the cart. "You just have problems with choices" . Don't smell anything else, don't figure the cost per nano ounce, don't think what if a tornado hits and I should have more, don't think the color won't look good in the bathroom, just grab and go. Two hundred and fifty dollars worth later of grabbed stuff and I had survived another fitful trip to my nemesis, Wal-Mart.