i bought all this flipping different types of paper (if anyone wants pearl/pinkish paper) I have like a thousand sheets.
i bought twine, i bought ribbon, i bought paper brads.
ugh.
the first day there was a stamping class so it was rather uneventful (minus the 20 CRAZY people who had scrapbooks that were hundreds of pages long)
the second day, I was in a hurry so I was maneuvering my way through those aisles.
There was a lady with her two kids picking out ribbon for something, and the mom was pushing a elderly gentlemen in a wheelchair.
okay. first of all.
the craft store aisles were not designed with wheelchair transportation in mind, so my heart went out for this dear lady that was trying to make sure her daughters didn't knock over a display of paper punches while she made sure the sides of the wheelchair didn't snag a corner of the shelf holding 12,432 recyclable envelopes.
I got what I needed and was at the checkout when the old man in the wheelchair turned to me and smiled and casually said,
"how's it going?"
I smiled back, put my iphone back into my purse like a polite young lady and replied,
"not too shabby for a Tuesday."
you guys. you would have thought I swore at him. He gave me the most pitiful/condescending look and YELLED (good things there was no stamping class, or they would have NOT been able to hear the teacher telling them the best way to clean their stamp pads.)
KIDS THESE DAYS! You just don't understand. What's so bad about a Tuesday? You can't go to the saloon and drink whiskey until you can't see straight? You live for Fridays. Completely oblivious to the fact that life goes so fast.
My wife? She died 2 months ago. On a Monday night. What do you think she would have given to have another Tuesday? Hell, she probably would have given up her weekly trip to the casino for the chance to have another "shabby Tuesday" as you so eloquently put it.
the reason I remember this almost word for word is because I was absolutely traumatized. He was SHOUTING at me, and his face was getting very, very red. (aaaannndddd, I am not a "KID!" I am too old to be a part of the "kids these days" phrases :)
I just wanted to buy my heart paper punch and get out of there. By this point, his mom had realized that he was not being very nice and started apologizing to me. I swiped my debit card and kind of ran out of the store. I was speechless.
Once I was safely in the car (with windows tightly rolled up of course) I just sat for who knows how long. I think it was like 5 minutes but it felt like an hour.
Then I BURST into tears. Like major waterworks. I felt awful. I was sad. I was MAD. I was thinking of all these clever comebacks that I wanted to say to that grouchy old man. My heart hurt for him. My heart hurt for my own grammy who misses my papa every.single.day.
i drove back to work, tried to wipe the mascara off of my cheeks and went inside.
I was in a funk. I noticed how much I complain, how much we ALL complain. Yeah, Monday's aren't fun. Workdays aren't always fun. Rainy days in July suck.
and as much as I don't appreciate the WAY that old man spoke to me, I really needed to get that message.
i guess the old adage is true, that you don't know whatcha got til it's gone.
and i suppose that old man just really wanted me to realize that maybe Tuesday's aren't all that bad, in the grand scheme of things :)
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