Fun With Thrift Store Lines

I dropped some stuff off at the thrift store today. I didn't really want to shop, which is always a sign that I should. Plus I need an alarm clock. Might as well get one for the $1.50 I ultimately paid today.

But oh, the check out lines! Today I had three options. Lane 1: woman buying $200 worth of stuff. Lane 2: Checker with hacking cough. Lane 3: Guy with a big sore on his forehead, telling the clerk, loudly, repeatedly, about how he lives under a bridge and everyone there (except presumably him) smokes "methamphetamine." Well, these are all great choices. Do I really need the clock? Well, yes I do.

I pick the lady with the full cart. But you know that didn't work, because the other lanes were now empty and she was nowhere near done. Okay, a cold sounds better than homeless meth guy, so I head for that one. Nope, now she's closed. So, the meth lane it is.

My goodness, with OCD, every day's such an adventure!

I'm really happy to have that alarm clock, though.