no good very bad day

I have been yearning to own my own home ever since I finally got cable (at the very belated age of 17) and discovered HGTV, the best channel ever! (slightly kidding, slightly serious).

There are the obvious advantages about owning a home: I'd get to paint the walls, change the floors, etc.; but there are also some advantages you might not necessarily think about. Besides laundry, it would make my grocery shopping so much easier!!!

My parents are visiting this weekend. And since all I currently had in my fridge were 3 half-eaten cans of olives and a very questionable tub of sour cream, I decided to go to the grocery store. I called them to ask what they would like to have for the 4th and, in true Wisconsin form, they requested brats and beer (I'm not sure how a trip to the store for 2 items turned into 7 grocery bags and a triple-digit grocery bill, but I digress).

I drive home and illegally park behind my building so that I can unload the groceries. Husband is at work for the evening, so it's all me. I unload the bags 2 at a time, and set them on the front steps outside my building. The last thing I grab from the car is the watermelon. I had spent 5 minutes at the store debating between it and a pineapple, I now know which one I should have picked (and this, boys and girls, is what we call foreshadowing).

I pick it up, and it proceeds to roll directly out of my palm and onto the ground. Who knew they were so bouncy?? It jumps off the pavement and into the grass. After the initial panic, I look at it and realize that it's fine. A little dusty from gravel, but beyond that completely unscathed. Relieved, I walk it to the doorstep as well.

We have a rather heavy front door that locks on itself, and then it's a stair climb to our second-floor apartment. I have to form my body into a Twister game pose in order to hold the door open, put my keys in my pocket, and pick up my watermelon.

You'd think I had learned my lesson at the car, but no, first thing I pick-up is the watermelon. And AGAIN, it falls out of my hands. But this time, I am not so lucky. This time it splits right down the middle, and juice starts pouring out on my feet. Not only to I have to deal with a sticky porchmelon, but I also have 7 bags of groceries to manipulate upstairs.

I finally manage to get them all up, and it's time to unload the bags. Upon opening the fridge, I realize that there's more than just the sour cream, there's actually lots of questionable jars of "food". Holding my breath, I quickly fill the trash can and shut the lid. Once the groceries are in their respective homes, I decide to empty the trash can before the items begin to fester. I grab the overly heavy bag and run downstairs hoping to make it to the dumpster before it rips. I leave my door unlocked, and set the handy stuffed animal in the doorway of the front door, so it won't lock.

After walking through spider webs, and hiding all the evidence that I store old food like a hobby, I walk back to the door and to my horror I discover that the door.is.shut. Somehow in my rush, my trash bag must have moved the stuffed bear back into the entryway. I have no keys, and (after ringing all the doorbells several times) unfortunately find out that no one else is home.

I sit on the front steps for about 5 minutes (and may i point out that it's FREEZING today...in july), and then I think I remember hearing my neighbor once say that they keep a key under the doormat just in case something like this happens. I pull away at the dirty, mildewy mat to no avail. My heart instantly drops. Then, I see a tiny black rock on the edge of the stoop. IT'S A HIDE-A-KEY!!! I've never been so excited to see an "as seen on tv" products before in my life*!!!

I am finally back safe and sound. But I have learned my lesson...(and it's not the one you think): For years my mother has pestered me to dress better during the day. Normally, I go the grocery store dressed like a sweaty linebacker, but today I opted for slighlty more acceptable attire. And I am now covered in watermelon juice, nasty trash "juice", and spiderwebs. Awesome.

*and this even includes when my parents got me the perfect pancake maker for my 19th birthday. Which, while exciting, actually caused me to make worse pancakes.