On Sunday, my hubby and I started the day in a good mood. We were getting things done around the house, the sun was shining, and I even prepared a store list, complete with meals for the entire week. We had such a good feeling because our plans for the day were moving along. For once, we were on the ball. All we needed to do was hit the store.
And, that is where it all fell apart. I was optimistic as we pulled into the parking lot. Store list in hand, I was prepared to get what we needed so we could get home. Tonight we would dine on a new chicken and veggie dish (cooking at our home has been rare in the past several weeks), catch up on our DVR recordings and have an enjoyable Sunday evening – one with out fretting over a wasted weekend and what we did not accomplish.
Heck, I was still content as I walked through the automatic doors and grabbed a buggy. It was when I entered the next stage of the store, leaving the alcove of the shopping cart return, that I was struck by the Wal-Mart Syndrome (WMS).
WMS is a disease that strikes when you enter the discount retailer during peak and are overcome with anxiety. My thoughtfully categorized shopping list was now written in a foreign language. My somewhat intelligent mind could not comprehend what canned goods were, let alone make a decision on dark or light red kidney beans. And to top it off, there was a sudden tension between my spouse and me that made me want to bite his head off for asking where he could find bouillon cubes.
Feeling this darkness invading my heart, I quickly divided up the lists. I could see in my husband’s eye and tell by his short tone that he too was infected. We might be able to survive if we could quickly escape this store from hell.
One-by-one, we checked items off of the list and booked it to the registers -- typically a nightmare situation, but we got lucky. There was a lane open, no wait. Boom, boom, boom we loaded the conveyer belt, paid for our groceries and snatched up our bags. Once inside the sanctuary of our truck, we started to calm a little.
I wish I could blame the hordes of aggressive shoppers on a beautiful spring day after a long hard winter, but other than the last two weeks, it has been mild. And, two weeks of some snow does not constitute cabin fever. For the most part, only a few more folks than usual were enticed by the warmer weather to vacate their homes. No, it is the iniquity that is Wal-Mart that brings out this disease. I am not sure if it is the store itself or the type of shoppers it attracts (and not necessarily the amount).
Despite all of that mental turmoil, I will continue to patron that place, hoping each time I am not eaten alive. To be honest, I would swim through the River Styx if I could save a buck.
And, that is where it all fell apart. I was optimistic as we pulled into the parking lot. Store list in hand, I was prepared to get what we needed so we could get home. Tonight we would dine on a new chicken and veggie dish (cooking at our home has been rare in the past several weeks), catch up on our DVR recordings and have an enjoyable Sunday evening – one with out fretting over a wasted weekend and what we did not accomplish.
Heck, I was still content as I walked through the automatic doors and grabbed a buggy. It was when I entered the next stage of the store, leaving the alcove of the shopping cart return, that I was struck by the Wal-Mart Syndrome (WMS).
WMS is a disease that strikes when you enter the discount retailer during peak and are overcome with anxiety. My thoughtfully categorized shopping list was now written in a foreign language. My somewhat intelligent mind could not comprehend what canned goods were, let alone make a decision on dark or light red kidney beans. And to top it off, there was a sudden tension between my spouse and me that made me want to bite his head off for asking where he could find bouillon cubes.
Feeling this darkness invading my heart, I quickly divided up the lists. I could see in my husband’s eye and tell by his short tone that he too was infected. We might be able to survive if we could quickly escape this store from hell.
One-by-one, we checked items off of the list and booked it to the registers -- typically a nightmare situation, but we got lucky. There was a lane open, no wait. Boom, boom, boom we loaded the conveyer belt, paid for our groceries and snatched up our bags. Once inside the sanctuary of our truck, we started to calm a little.
I wish I could blame the hordes of aggressive shoppers on a beautiful spring day after a long hard winter, but other than the last two weeks, it has been mild. And, two weeks of some snow does not constitute cabin fever. For the most part, only a few more folks than usual were enticed by the warmer weather to vacate their homes. No, it is the iniquity that is Wal-Mart that brings out this disease. I am not sure if it is the store itself or the type of shoppers it attracts (and not necessarily the amount).
Despite all of that mental turmoil, I will continue to patron that place, hoping each time I am not eaten alive. To be honest, I would swim through the River Styx if I could save a buck.
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