Rob and I are shopping when he says he has to go do something.  “I’ll be back.”  “What if I finish before you get back?”  “You won’t.”  “But what if I do?”  “Here are the car keys.”  “But I can’t drive.” 

He leaves leaving me to finish shopping without him.  When I am finished I go to the checkout line but the woman in front of me, who has a lot of things, needs a price check.  The manager waves me over to another line and the Hispanic cashier gives me a dirty look.  She was getting ready to close out her register.  As she begins ringing up my items she points out to me that this is the express line and I have many more items than is allowed on the limit.  I look for the manager but I cannot see her.  I apologize to the girl who continues being rude to me.  The manager shows up and waves me over to the customer service desk where she will personally ring up my items. 

When I am done, I carry the things out to the car and realize that I don’t have my wallet.  I’m also a little frustrated because Rob is not back, in spite of his assurances to the contrary.  I return to the store and the manager seeing me immediately directs me to the very small office of a young man.  I recognize him as a friend of someone from my past.  He is very flirty although he knows nothing about my relationship with his friend.  He has to fill out some paperwork before he can turn over my property to me and while he is doing that I walk around the store some more.

I come across a separate store—really an animal shelter, that specializes in rescuing puppies and penguins.  There are many penguins waddling around and I think that maybe Rob and I should get penguins instead of puppies because they would be easier to train.  I wonder if they bite, the way that my mother’s bird does and then I think about how the penguins would probably poop all over the house, which might be such a good thing.  I’m pondering whether or not penguins can be housebroken when I go back to see the guy about my wallet.

He is now wearing a wedding band with ’73 on it and is no longer being flirty with me.  I ask him about his being married and he mumbles something about his wife owning an animal rescue place that specializes in puppies and penguins.  I get excited.  “I was just there.  It must be great working so close to where your wife works.”  He says it is, and that one of the reasons he took the job in the store was that they were willing to let him work at this particular location.

He then gives me a folio with some paperwork in it.  “These are the pieces to the game, including the peanut butter squares.”  “But what happened to the box?”  “I don’t know.  But it’s okay.  You don’t need the instructions.  Just remember that every time you roll something you get a certain number of peanut butter squares.”  I don’t know what he means and not even how many squares one should get for each roll.  Still, I take the folio, the paper doll playing pieces, and my wallet. 

On my way back to the car I want to tell Rob about the puppies and penguins but when he answers the phone all I can hear are video game noises in the background.  He can’t hear me or didn’t answer the phone properly.  Either way I hang up, frustrated and determined to drive the car even though I shouldn’t be driving.  It’s late at this point and long past time for me to be getting home.  I realize as soon as I get the car started that my car is facing in the wrong direction.  There are about five lanes of traffic driving towards me and although I am facing in the wrong direction one idiot driver pulls up behind me.  I flash my headlights to let him know that he’s in the wrong lane.  After all, I am parked in a parking spot.  He backs out and I pull forward using the driveway to a parking lot so I can turn my vehicle around.  But I haven’t driven in a long time and I have a hard time not turning my car into the lane beside me. This is not good and I nearly side-swipe a car being driven by a blonde with a tattoo covering her calf and going up her thigh on her right leg.  She doesn’t even seem to notice and I pull in behind her because I figure it is safer for all involved if I am behind the flow of traffic and not in it.

Just then, Rob calls and I am understandably frustrated.  “Where are you?”  “I’m still here.”  “Well, I’m in the car.”  “Okay, then you should come and get me.”  “But I’m not supposed to drive and I think I’m dangerous.  I nearly hit another driver already.”

Rob assures me I’ll be fine and I hang up when the light changes just to be safe.  I am thinking “I need to call Mary and tell her I ran into so-and-so and about what an asshole he was, flirting with me like he wasn’t married.”