Today is Wednesday, which is bible study day, and shopping day for Dally and me. We are usually dressed and out of the house by 8:00, heading to HEB for our own groceries and some for a client, and then we head off to our bible study. Usually after that, we head home for Dally’s nap and my very late breakfast, but today, I had a couple of stops I needed to make on the way home. Those stops turned out to be just epic enough to share.

First, I ran into Ross, in an attempt to quickly find a few little things the boys were in need of. It was mildly successful, thanks to YouTube and my ever-growing data plan. Dally mostly stayed in the basket, watching videos of The Wheels on the Bus while I shopped, until we got to the checkout line and she decided she’d like to pretend to be asleep… sideways in my arms. Fair enough; it was past naptime at this point. And so I appeased her, and we went on to our next and final stop: JoAnn Fabrics.

I’ll start by saying that for someone who can’t even sew on a button, I find myself in this tragically awful place way too often. I have been in there on Saturdays, and it’s busy. I’ve been in there on Tuesday mornings, and it’s busy. And now I’ve been in there on Wednesday afternoon, and can confirm that at this time, JoAnn’s is also busy. I suppose the primary demographic includes a lot of retired women, but still.

At any rate, I had several things to try to find, and so I started by taking a number for the cutting line, because it was that long. I found the flannel for some little girls’ nightgowns that my mom is planning to sew. I found the burlap for Colt’s Halloween costume. I found the tote strap for my client, and then I found a piece of fabric that wasn’t five million dollars to fashion (AKA, tie) into a very primitive cape for my own Halloween costume. All the while, I was wrestling Dally, and working up quite a sweat. I sang her favorite songs, offered up my phone, carried her on my hip, carried her on my back, carried her on my front, and carried her sideways. I stuffed a paci in her mouth, distracted, begged, and pleaded.

We waited at the counter, in what felt like a mosh pit of retirees and super domestic young mothers, in what can only be described as the sixth circle of hell. And just as Dally was really starting to hit the wall, my number was called.

Sweet relief! We were nearly through! …Or so I thought.

Have you ever noticed that no one in JoAnn seems to have ANY sense of urgency? Like, none at all? I wrestled, coddled, shushed, and nearly cried, as I watched this fabric cutter painstakingly remove a thread from the burlap before cutting it. This maneuver alone took several minutes. Minutes are like years when you’re dealing with a tired toddler in public. She used the same school-zone-esque speed to measure my strap, and then my cape. The cape fabric happened to have an extra foot than I had asked for on the bolt, and she offered to include it at a discount. I foolishly thought this would hurry up the process, since it saved her a cut. But I was very, very wrong. Apparently, this would require a laborious effort on her hand held fabric calculator that made me wonder if she wasn’t launching a rocket from NASA. Finally, we got to the flannel, and after unrolling four and a half yards of flannel from the bolt, ever so slowly, we discovered that it was exactly four and a half yards, at which time she celebrated this momentous occasion, and then slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, rolled all four and a half yards back up on the original bolt. Pain. Full. It was like watching life in slow motion.

By this time Dally had squirmed out of my arms and on to the floor, alternating among a whole variety of personalities, including but not limited to: delusional and happy, delusional and sad, angry, exasperated, maniacal, really angry, and screamy.

I was doing all I could, and clearly, so was the fabric cutting lady. (Insert eye roll emoji here.) But Dally was just past her limit. I glanced around me, and expected to  see a bunch of mothers who sympathized with my situation, offering encouraging smiles. Not so. I know I just came from bible study and all, but I’m sorry. JoAnn Fabrics was full of a bunch of cranky bitches today. There were women glaring at me, rolling their eyes, shaking their heads, and whispering to one another. I suppose I’m spoiled to typically be surrounded by a more supportive village than this, but nonetheless, I was unpleasantly surprised at the response. What did they expect me to do? Reason with her? (Bahahaha!) Spank her? (I’m sure that would stop a screaming two year old!) Abandon all my carefully selected purchases and leave? (I may as well also quit the marathon at mile 25.)

After aging about five or six years, our fabric was finally cut, and I headed past all those sweet and caring ladies to the check out line.

Ah, the check out line. It’s where you think you’re done, but you’re not. This, my friends is the seventh circle of hell.

Again, JoAnn is always busy. And yet, it never seems to occur to anyone to have any more than two check out counters open.

We waited in the line of temptation, where all the candy goes to live, just in case the wait itself wasn’t punishment enough. I found a partial package of peanut butter crackers in the bottom of my purse, and thankfully, this was enough to occupy Dally’s mouth for a few minutes. We were next in line. I began to calculate Dally’s chewing speed with the average time per transaction, and pray that we might actually make it.

It was then that God chuckled at my petty wish, and decided to teach me a lesson. One lane was waiting for the mythical unicorn that is the manager, to come and type in a magical code which would resume progress. The other lane had this going on:

“Well, I had my coupon here somewhere…. Hmmm…. I hope it’s not in my car. Ha, my car seems to be a bottomless pit, haha! Hmm. Oh, here it is. Now, can I use this one with this other one? Why not? Well, what if I buy this other thing, too? Or what if we divide it up into two purchases? Well, I guess I could go back and grab that ribbon. Oh, there are different coupons that come in the mail? Oh, you mean I can get coupons e-mailed to me, too? Oh, well sign me up! That’s M-A-R…G-E-R…I-E, dot, F-I-T-Z…P-A-T…R-I-C-K, at, oh, gosh, it is yahoo, or gmail? I never can remember, can you? Haha! Well, let’s try yahoo and see what happens. Did that work? Haha!”

Oh. My. I seriously thought we might just die, right there in the line of ever-so-supportive people.

But it gets worse. At the end of it all, as the receipt printed out, I swear to you the cashier said to Margerie, “You saved $1.73 today with your coupons!”

Oh, Margerie. I hope you’re enjoying something truly magical with that $1.73.

The punishment finally ended, we finally paid, and I carried a tired two year old out to the parking lot, strapped her into the car, and drove home to the sounds and physically painful sensations of her visceral screams. It was enough to make me strongly consider a few fingers of bourbon on my front porch steps for lunch, but I chose blog therapy instead.

Oh, and if you happen to know of the magical time to shop at JoAnn’s, do me a favor and let me know when you’re going. I’ll send you my list!