Walmart is not good for PMS

Most people who know me know that I despise Walmart. I think the corporation is a souless money-machine masquerading as a neoconservative, down-home, neighborhoods-first hero. Essentially, I think they are a big Wolf in Sheep's clothing. Oh, and I generally find the stores to be dingy, poorly lit, and organized as if someone Ainslie's age was asked what should go where.

BUT--they just built one exactly one mile from us. I resisted for over a month--but it was inevitable. When you are down to 1 cup of milk and half a roll of TP in the house and the weather sucks and you just made the much longer drive to Target yesterday, what are you gonna do? Now, today's visit wasn't my first. I am ashamed to say it was my fourth. Each time I've been in there I have left with roughly half the items on my list because they either didn't have such an inoccuous item as Suave hair gel, or the price was significantly higher than I pay elsewhere.

I digress. PMS both sucks and blows, as many of us are aware. Ainslie has taken to getting up at 5:45, I have cramps, it's the first day of Spring but a blustery, raw, 35 degrees and I'm generally disgruntled.

We enter Walmart. Amazingly, they had everything I needed, except a flagpole (our metal one literally blew in half during the wind storms last week--thank goodness it didn't break the window.) I even bought Ainslie some black patents because they were cute and significantly less expensive than anywhere else. Then we went to check out.

Tell me--why are some stores consistently slower on the checkout than others? Can you feel the hormones flowing yet? FIFTEEN freaking minutes in a line with 2 people with a moderate amount of items. Ok, we get out. Breathe. We get to the car. The wind is howling and I'm trying to get Ainslie out of the cold without damaging anyone's car with the cart. The *&^%^$@$#^% buckle on the cart is broken. It's freezing cold and I can't free my child from the shopping cart. Back in we go--by now I'm talking like a crazy cat lady in my outdoor voice about how much I hate Walmart. You know how everything is just that much worse when the progesterone is surging? Finally, we find someone to help us. Finally, she admits she needs scissors. Ugh.

Ok. Any store could have a faulty buckle. Between surges I can admit that.