dys·func·tion /dɪsˈfʌŋkʃən/ [dis-fuhngk-shuhn]–noun
1. Medicine/Medical . malfunctioning, as of an organ or structure of the body. 2. any malfunctioning part or element: the dysfunctions of the country's economy. 3. Sociology . a consequence of a social practice or behavior pattern that undermines the stability of a social system.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

The Sunday Blues

Boyfriend and I rushed around yesterday to do the laundry (at the local ghetto-mat) and clean the house before we had company.

We entertained them briefly before snuggling in for a movie and some dinner, and then after Splat went to bed, we watched a little hockey and played some computer games.

We had decided that we would run out today and do some shopping (I wanted to spend a giftcard I got for Christmas and Boyfriend needs knew shoes) while Shake'n'Bake is with her dad and we only have to worry about one child.

Hoo Boy. What a trip.

First we went to Walmart to pick up a prescription that I had put in for some Finger Fungus cream.

Boyfriend volunteered to wait in the car with Splat so we wouldn't have to unload and carry her in, and I ran in to the pharmacy for a simple pick up.

The pharmacy wasn't open yet.

Okayyyyyyy. Next stop - to pick up new shoes for Boyfriend.

Not open yet.

We'll head north! There's another shoe store up there, and giftcard store is close to that as well.

We parked in the mall parking lot to go to the giftcard store and I realized that I had forgotten to bring the umbrella stroller for Splat again.



Luckily enough, this mall also had a grocery store in it. I made a quick dash to the carts and brought one back to the car for Boyfriend to put Splat in. We decided to go through the mall entrance instead of the grocery store entrance.

We got about halfway there.

As we were crossing the last bit of parking lot, the "invisible cart border patrol" kicked in and the wheels locked.

Ahh crud.

"Look! There are red-not-grocery-carts over there!" I exclaimed, pointing out three lone carts sitting near the mall entrance.

They belonged to the mall Zellers, so I figured they would be okay to push around the mall.

As we got closer I realized that one had no handle.



Boyfriend commented that it was completely appropriate given that we live in the Ghetto, and we had a nice chuckle.

The other two carts were connected to each other with those coin operated chain things, so Boyfriend and I had a race as to who could get a quarter out faster.
Image from here

I won.

I jammed my quarter in...then took it out...then jammed it in...then Boyfriend pointed out the picture that said it took loonies (the $1 coin).

Neither of us had a loonie.

So Boyfriend volunteered to carry Splat in her carseat (a daunting task, she's heavy) and we entered the mall.

Giftcard store was closed.

We went home.

The moral of the story is:
Nothing is open Sunday morning.

Even in the Ghetto.

1 comment:

jedi starrunner said...

I had a day like that last week, but on a Monday. Moral of my story is:

Don't keep telling yourself all day "If I do ____, then I get sushi for dinner!" unless you are CERTAIN that the sushi place will be open.

what a let down.

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