Saturday, April 14, 2012

Civil Disobedience

Most days, the SJG is a law-abiding citizen, a rule-follower.  I never make a rolling stop, never run a red light, never go over the speed limit.  I'm such a good girl.  But every now and then, I stray.  I step outside the line.  I disobey.  Yesterday, it happened in Trader Joe's, a place where I must fight to hang on to my sanity.  Any time I go to Trader Joe's, I lose all sense of control.  I start throwing random items in the cart, items I never planned to buy, but they look too delish to resist.  Hubby has told me to never get those plastic containers of cute little cookies.  They're like crack.  "Don't buy these again," is his mantra.  Chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin.  These are  his downfall, and mine, too.  Yesterday, I conveniently forgot.  The cute little cookies spoke to me, and I went for it.  One of each.  The cookies sent me on a downward spiral of "ooooo, yum," and soon, my cart was full.  But did that stop me from getting into the "12 items or less" line?  No, I'm ashamed to tell you, it did not.  I parked right behind a woman buying one sad little bag of cough drops and waited my turn.  Of course, I had no idea I was being so reckless, because, as usual, I wasn't paying attention.  I didn't see the sign, didn't key on the grammatical boo-boo of "less" instead of "fewer."  "12 items or fewer" just sounds wrong, even though, grammatically, it's right.  I didn't know I was breaking the Trader Joe's law of common decency.  Not until the cashier shot me the evil eye, something I've never received in this market.  The cashiers are always so friendly, so, "how's it goin', dude?" But this gal looked heated.  "Do you have more than 12 items?" she asked.  "Uh-huh," I said, suddenly awash in guilt.  I'd been bad.  She pointed to the sign.  "You're in the wrong line."  "Oh, dear God, I'm so sorry, should I move?"  "I've already started ringing you up."  "So you're not going to throw me in Trader Joe Jail?" I asked.  "Not this time," she said. "I'll let you off with a warning."  "It won't happen again, officer," I promised.  But knowing me, it will happen again.  Every now and then, I stray.  I step into the wrong line.  I eff with authority.  It makes me feel so alive.

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