Footage At Eleven, Perd (WITH A LOT OF ALL CAPS!)

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Gentle Reader,

So today I did a little bit of retail therapy essential errand-running.  I realized I hadn’t been out of the house since Saturday and I am trying REALLY hard to keep from becoming one of “those” people.  Anyway, I started out at the Tyler mall where I’m SURE you will be shocked to note that I didn’t find much that I HAD to have.  (Side note:  I miss you, Nordstrom.)  (You, too, Anthropologie.)  (And you, Apple Store?  Well I miss you most of all.)  I found acceptable versions of what I was looking for at JC Penney and got out of there.

After that, I went to the local Chinese food spot and had some hot and sour soup with a side of evangelism.  The hot and sour was more of an almost-lukewarm and sour but it did the job.  The preachin’, however, was ENLIGHTENING.  This man was blessed with gifts, y’all.  He possessed not only a proselytizing spirit but also a serious case of the hearing loss, so the Spirit was upon us all today.  And the dialogue was almost Gilmore Girls-esque in snap and speed.  It started out with Genesis–apparently God needed Adam to sin so he could be given Eve and then a family, though he wasn’t sure how long Adam was by himself there in Eden without Eve or family, as he wasn’t there–and SWIFTLY moved (naturally) into a pointed discussion about how women’s lib has seriously MESSED US ALL UP.  I’d have found this funnier, but it was accompanied by a myopic stare at my naked left-hand ring finger.  Not being too sure about his particular theology, I was concerned.  I wasn’t sure if I was about to be married off or what.  Fortunately, I now know that all sin is all my fault because woman and whew!  I’m certain this will make me a better gal in the long run, uncomfortable lunch aside.  Anyway, he also had thoughts on the drought in California but I’m not sure whose fault that ultimately was (y’all, I was worried they were going to catch on to the fact that this was the most fascinating conversation I had heard in a few days, and so I had to eat a few bites every once in awhile so they wouldn’t think I was eavesdropping…) (I’m not entirely certain why I was concerned about this considering the man had spent ten minutes examining my ring finger from his table, but old habits and whatnot) though I do know he was MOST unhappy with LA, so-IDK.  Maybe them?  And then he and his wife began a discussion about the thirteen disciples (and yes, sure, technically, there were thirteen…I think you’re giving them a LOT of credit if you assume they are counting replacements instead of just adding to the count at-will…).  Anyway-given the fact that I am sitting here in puppy-chewed flip flops, yoga pants and a neighborhood HOA tee shirt, I’m not sure how it came to be that I was in any way emblematic of the Womens’ Liberation Movement, but I hope I did you proud.  And I really hope I’m not secretly married to the guy.

Anyway, after I dawdled over a bowl of soup and Preacher Sketchy, I went to Walmart because East Texas.  I got my allergy medicine, and some bulk sausage (seriously, you’re still reading this???) and some more Minute Maid Tropical Punch (mix it with rum, and you have the ultimate lazy girly-summer drink) and got into line.  Where time stood still.  And the person in line, AT THE REGISTER, realized they had forgotten something.  And in proof that I had descended into the little-publicized eleventh circle of H*ll (if we are counting Limbo, and I am…), the person left the line and WENT TO GET IT.  At this point, since we were in a time warp, it made no sense to jump ship so I stayed.  And unloaded my items onto the conveyor belt where I realized that the fates were having GREAT FUN AT MY EXPENSE, and that I had forgotten THE ONE THING I had gone into the Walmart for.  So I loaded the items back into my cart (because even though I was living in a level of H*ll from which there was obviously no escape, I figured it wouldn’t be nice to make everybody else live there, too…) and went back and got the buttermilk.  I trotted back to the line, and IT HAD NOT MOVED.  Except that I was now at the end of the line, rather than at the conveyor belt part.  The Tyler Walmart, y’all.  On the cutting edge of theoretical physics…

After I finally escaped the clutches of the Evil Empire (not before forgetting YET ANOTHER THING ENTIRELY but not going back for it because I literally might have died a lot) I made my way to the car and opened the trunk.

WHERE THERE WAS A GIANT BLACK WIDOW SPIDER!!!!!  Seriously, it was poisonous, approximately between 1 centimeter and 50 yards big, alive, and I am pretty sure it hissed and clicked at me.  (Also, it had the hourglass thing on its body.  SO I KNOW THESE THINGS.)  And in this situation, I relied on my vast 37 years of Nature Training (including 3 whole months of Girl Scouts) to scream, begin to itch all over my body (it’s well-known that black widow spiders lay eggs that aerosolize upon trunk opening and therefore I was covered in a thin film of spider eggs, I HAD TO SCRATCH THE EGGS OFF OF ME), and consider my options.  Sacrificing my car on an altar of fire seemed like a reasonable yet terrible option, since I couldn’t get home without a vehicle (this is the problem with living in the middle of nowhere).  Having already accompanied Virgil on a tour of the afterlife in order to buy some groceries, I felt like abandoning my cart in the parking lot, slamming the trunk, and driving home while screaming and then dumping the car in the lake would be short-sighted, so it became clear I was going to have to somehow get the spider-THE DEADLY, GIANT, HUGE SPIDER-out of the trunk.

And since for now I am still higher up on the food chain than said VENOMOUS SPIDER, I opted to remove it from my trunk after swiftly dispatching the thing.  So I looked around for A Thing with which to kill the spider from as great a distance as possible.  And y’all?  HERE IS A FANTASTIC REASON FOR CONCEALED CARRY IN YOUR TRUNK.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have any weapons in mine, so I had to use an old towel.  It may or may not have been old (or monogrammed really nicely) to start with, but it CERTAINLY WAS AFTER I WAS DONE WITH IT.  After wrestling the towel-clad arachnid to the ground, stomping on him, stopping, picking up the towel lump, and then deciding it MIGHT NOT BE DEAD YET, and then stomping for a few more minutes to be sure (look, those haters who were looking at me like I was nuts were a) strangers and b) wrong), I threw it away and drove home.  Where I realized this was one of those things of which I should have taken a picture, because that would have been a more entertaining blog post.  But then some literalist out there would have measured the thing and dared to contradict my findings, and that wouldn’t have ended well for you or for the spider.  Anyway-there was a spider.  I killed it.  WITHOUT A BOY.

Maybe I really AM the poster child for the Womens’ Liberation Movement.



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