of being a spoiled, bratty housewife
Do you remember that part in Raising Arizona where the jailbirds bust out of the muddy ground? When Mike gets home from traveling and I leave the house completely alone for any amount of time or any purpose I feel exactly like that. It's amazing to me the grandiose feeling of ease (10 million bricks lifted) being alone even to get a slurpee down the street at circle k without latching / unlatching one.single.carseat. Or baby mouth.
It's incredible (or is it pathetic?) how a simple little teeny tiny outing like that by myself pleases me.
I sneere in the direction of 'convenience' stores during the week at all hours of any day as I roll past in my car. shyea. sooooooo convenient. Then my cotton mouth turns green at the thought of an ice cold 44 ouncer of Sprite. And watch the luxury of the patrons coming in and out and in and out. Leisurely. With their free hands. And their silent mouths. And their freedom of thought and attention all the while. Do they even know to appreciate these things!?!?!?
Someone buy a franchise and put in a drive-thru already. And for Subway. I would pay double price. Possibly triple on pay day before reality of a budget sets in.
Seriously, though, it's cool. I had my own prime years where I was able to come and go freely without the responsibility of Tiny Others. I get it, I'm not the target customer anymore. Just like The Gap and their Skinny Jeans and tiny shorts. I once was the person they wanted money from, but not any longer. I belong to the stroller slinging mall club. No matter how much I fight it. The life of Nothing is Ever Convenient or Hip.