I have an affliction that I believe many of my fellow countrymen live with. Namely, I am bombarded with a ridiculous multitude of information on a daily basis; some of it useful, some of it not as much. For the sake of self-preservation, I have learned to tune out the information that is not a top-priority in my little world.
And, as I only have one child and she isn’t yet school-aged, I did not file the tax free date in my memory bank. As far as self-preservation goes, that was a huge mistake. I do not believe I am being overly dramatic when I say that it was a mistake of Biblical proportions.
You see, my blue pen dried up. And I really needed another blue pen. Like I said, I had not filed the tax-free information in my head before I proceeded to Target this afternoon. It seemed, somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, that there were more than the usual number of mini-vans in the parking lot. But I was too busy scanning the horizon for crazed gunmen (as is my habit) to fully register the extra automobiles.
I went back to the school supply area – much like a lamb is led to slaughter … What I found when I got there was so horrifying … so awful … so … well, words fail me … (unlike ellipses, which never fail me). What, you ask, was so terrifying that I was reduced to running for my life from my local Super Target?
THEY HAD RUN COMPLETELY OUT OF CRAYOLA CRAYONS – 24 PACK, 25 CENTS!!!!!
Mothers were weeping, children were screaming, I even saw one man pulling out his hair and begging for mercy from Above. 2 women were fighting over a package of washable markers – disheveled hair being pulled, fingers being bitten. It was truly something I hope never to witness again.
One unfortunate child was crying huge sad tears because his mother was making him buy, of all things, Rose Art brand crayolas! Yuck! Who wants those anyway? I hope the boy won that argument; I really do.
It did not go unnoticed by this blog author, however, that my replacement Cricut blades are not considered “essential” by our illustrious government; and, thus, I had to pay sales tax on them. Which is just shy of a tragedy of Biblical proportions.