Dammit. This is why I hate Walmart: I go in there, list of four things in my head. Cookie sheets, nonstick aluminum foil, bandaids, nail polish. Easy enough, right? Noooo. I have to get suckered into five tee shirts for five dollars, a big blue plastic storage tub, and…what else? Maybe that was it. But pantyhose? NO. Why would I think of that? Who wears pantyhose? Not me, apparently. FAIL. My big plan to dress for the weather tomorrow? Doomed.
Oh! That’s what it was. They do sell booze. At least the light stuff. I’ll get barefoot (merlot, I believe…and I’m really out of practice with the waiter’s corkscrew. Sad face.), but I’m apparently not going sockfree tomorrow. It probably won’t even rain, since I actually thought about putting an umbrella in a useful place today. Blergblergblerg. Mkay. Time to go shopping in my own closet. Again. Wish me luck. Or skillz. Or something.