The Seinfeldian Post

D.D. and I actually had a very good shopping experience yesterday. L.H. had to stay home and work (so sad! and on his birthday!). I had a fairly thorough list, a working pen, and my slug for the cart—I have managed to leave one or more of these items at home in the recent past—plus we’d had a snack before we left, so we were all set. D.D. didn’t have the gimmes and was a good helper. It was great.

Halfway through the store, I wanted to lie down and die. Not due to the usual store-induced stress, though. The in-store music was one of my favorite Depeche Mode songs, one I’ve been listening to repeatedly while I work in the kitchen. My youth was suddenly ripped from me for the listening pleasure of persons trying to decide between lemon-scented or plain toilet bowl cleaner. Noooo!

L.H. just turned 32, but it’ll be a cold day in hell when the Mini-Mal plays *anything* by Yngwie Malmsteen, his favorite rock musician, the epitome of an 80s hair-rocker (although, to give him his musical props, he is supposed to be something of a guitar virtuoso). So L.H. will be able to hold on to the illusion of being too young and hip for grocery store music. Grrr...

I’m withholding judgment on this stupid estrogen patch thing until after I take it off tonight. If the spotting stops, it’ll be the best thing since sliced bread. If not, I could have saved myself the five bucks and just put a piece of tape on my stomach, because that’s what it felt like at first. It’s an odd sensation—try it sometime.

LMIL commented that little kids can be satisfied with the smallest things, and I thought, “Yeah, but not mine,” because D.D. was in full Barbie-wanting mode at the time. But once again she’s proved me wrong. She got a cheap, 4-inch, stuffed dog from a package of wet wipes, and you’d think it was her newborn the way she cares for it. It has a special fortified bed made of pillows to protect it from the cats (and light, and noise) while it sleeps, and she’s been keeping it on a strict eating and napping schedule. She even gave it her own middle name. I can only imagine the level of care a rubber band or a twist tie might receive.