After a "bad" morning, ill-hormoned, cold, in debt, and having to accept my ineptitude at being the candy czar of the house, I pushed my ragged self to finally get off the fucking phone with my sister and go grocery shopping, which with Lloyd now in preschool, Halloween, and me back in class was long overdue. We had things to eat I had picked up here and there this week and last, but butter, kleenex, and a b-day card for dada's grandma on her 90th birthday were needed. $139 of other shit was needed too I guess.

The debt crap is about the school loans, which are a part of life on the way up, and his drugged-out credit card extravaganza looming daily in the form of the companies calling and those bills left unpaid. One bitch called this morning. I answered to remind her that we're waiting for consumer credit counseling to process things. She asked if we could pay $300. I said no cuz that much needs to be dispersed among all the creditors. She said how about $73, which would cover late fees only, then wanted to connect me to someone in payments. I told her now was not good because I had to get my daughter to the bus. She said, well, we have to do this, so I hung up on her and turned the phone to do not disturb.

The grocery was fine until I hit an aisle where something smelled eye-squinting bad. By the paper towels it smelled even worse. I saw the culprit rolling his Jazzy away and around the corner.

Oh.

I don't even know how his flesh could withstand the urine marination. I couldn't breath. I was waving my hand in front of my nose. Shoppers coming towards me had sour faces like prunes. It was intense. I was about to blurt something aloud, just to see if this was for real--just to get an Amen.

Butter and eggs. Thank god for butter and eggs. It didn't smell by the butter and eggs. I paused there to breath and hug Dallas. Butter and eggs. Thank god.

I saw the gross junkie in line and headed far far to a checkout in the land of easy breathing. On the way there I was completely cut off by a little old lady. Anyone would have at least remarked 'Oh' in surprise at the cart and person suddenly right in their path, practically out of nowhere. I said "Excuse you" twice as I turned 90 degrees to get around her and to the line I had my eye on anyway. She said in a rather sweet voice, "I didn't do anything wrong, lady," which I let on that I ignored.

Bagging my stuff, I thought, she's right. She didn't do anything wrong. Courtesy is not, after all, a law. What she did do was the ol' cut in line and not look back move that Dane Cook talked about once. She beat me to the line, fair and square. Some acknowledgment for ending up directly in my way would have been nice.

I'm not complaining. The way it happened made my day. And I wasn't all harried about it either. I say 'excuse you' all the time to people who either don't hear me or don't say anything back. I'm not the courtesy police or anything. Just maybe a little bit of a wise guy.

The lady happened to meet me by the other door, where I was picking up Lloyd from babysitting. She was nice. She wasn't trying to be mean, she said. I was nice. I said I was sorry; I had had a bad morning. She repeated her non-offense. I repeated mine. Life was, for both of us, better. I could tell, regardless of the stench.