One would assume that these two experiences would, in the mind of a normal person, cancel each other out. A correlation between the two would be realized, and the entire situation written off as a zero-loss experience.  I am not a normal person.

 

This is how I found myself in the checkout line of the local Safeway at 3am Sunday morning. Eyes rheumy and red from too much Diablo, hair disheveled and looking like a bush that two bears just had sex in, holding a carton of milk and a box of off-brand almond cereal.  I had been trying to think of something clever to say to the pretty check-out lady so she wouldn’t realize I was about 10 minutes away from eating cereal in my darkened apartment when I realized that the guy in front of me looked like he was on meth, and the guy behind me looked like he really wanted to be the guy in front of me. The imagery was so perfect I couldn’t help but figure out where I would place myself in the “Evolution of failure” that was the checkout line. What happened after that is fuzzy -- all I remember is mentally checking her off the list of “people to make eye contact with.” Another blaze of glory. 

 

This is also why I spent all Sunday experiencing the unique situation of a stomach on strike. Things hurt, a lot. I’m kind of fascinated by the human body. I used to eat cereal for breakfast every day amd now it will practically shut me down/ That milk is still in my refrigerator and I’m gonna have to look at it, every day. I seriously can’t bring myself to pour good food down the drain so I’m going to have to wait until it expires. In a month and a half. Shit.