Karma Must Hate My Carpet
sure, it looks harmless enough now...
I have a confession to make. It’s been keeping me up at night, racking me w/ guilt, burning a hole in my pocket (wait, that’s not right)…you get the picture. What I’m about to disclose may change your opinion of me. I know, w/ my regular content on here regarding day drinking and skipping showers y’all really think highly of me, but this may knock me down a few pegs. That’s a risk I’m willing to take to clear my conscience.
A few days ago Brent and I were on a Target run. Unlike every other blogger in the world who apparently can’t run into that store w/out dropping an unnecessary $100 bucks, I needed two things, and those were the only two things I would be leaving w/; cat food and cat litter (hence why I dragged Brent, so the cashier wouldn’t think I was a sad old cat lady) (I may have sweetened the deal w/ dinner at the Target Pizza Hut on the way out) (just kidding, I’m all for fast food, but even I have standards and Target Pizza Hut is well below them).
So we’re headed to the check-out when we pass the cosmetics and I remember that I wanted to paint my toenails this weekend and all my colors were stale and boring. I needed something fresh and I knew the orangey-coral polish that caught my eye would add a much-needed pop to my feet. So I palmed a bottle while Brent was huffing and puffing w/ the cat food and litter (the real reason I brought him; this ain’t my first food and litter run) and headed for the check-out. We’re going through the line w/ our three items and I tell the cashier we don’t need a bag for the litter, and please throw the nail polish in w/ the cat food in the canvas bag I brought.
The cashier puts the nail polish in w/out seeming to run it over the price scanner; I reason he must know what he’s doing and pay the total he quotes me. We’re on the way out and Brent says, “I don’t think he scanned the nail polish.” I stop for a second and rummage the receipt out of the bag. There are only two items on it, cat food and litter.
Instead of turning around and going back to the register, instead of doing what was right and moral and what my parents raised me to do, instead of marching right up to that cashier and saying, I’m sorry, you didn’t charge me for this item….instead of doing all that, I walked through the exit and told Brent to shrug it off. I think I even tried to rationalize it, saying it was the least they owed us for all the trouble it caused when their accounts were hacked and Brent’s credit card information was compromised last year.
A $4 dollar bottle of nail polish isn’t going to bring the corporate giant to its knees; it probably won’t even be marked on this month’s inventory. But that little bottle caused all kinds of havoc on this household.
The next day as I settled down to paint my toenails I unscrewed the cap and saw that it was one of those extra large brushes, designed to make painting your nails in two or three strokes a breeze. Also designed for making a shitshow of your living room carpet. I never ever paint my nails in the living room. I always sit at the kitchen table, or on the kitchen floor, if I’m doing my toes. So of course this afternoon w/ the giant brush, and the brimming full bottle of bright orange polish, I decide that staying put in the living room is probably the best course of action.
I think you know what happens next. Orange polish, meet beige carpet. Oh, you weren’t properly introduced the first time, let’s try again. And again. And (I’m not even exaggerating here) again. Every time I got done (unsuccessfully) scrubbing the polish out of one spot, I’d look over and see an even bigger stain. Until I realized the polish was on the bottom of my foot and I was tracking it all over the damn carpet.
My carpet must have done some pretty serious shit in its former life to induce this sort of karma in this one.