I had to quick run into Target yesterday for wipes because, like the toilet paper issue around this house, I also am quite the procrastinator when it comes to keeping the stock of wipes to butt ratio high in this house. Whatever.
So I pull into a parking space, that now I have to calculate where it’s going to be with the new van because the thing is a boat – I’m constantly worried about people denting the sides. Hey, it’s happened. So after the mathmatical decision to park far enough away, we park and then I itch my nose. BUT WAIT! What is that I feel?
A zit. Or maybe two. For crying out loud, I am not 16 any more. Lets just stop this whole oil production please, I am not kidding, cut it out. I take a quick gander in the mirror and decide I can quickly, yes I am going to say it, pop them. They were moist, if it wasn’t gross enough for you. Moist with zit puss! PUSS!
All the while I have no idea if any of the other parked cars around me have occupants and at this point I am praying to Jesus that I am o-so-very-alone in this act. I see something out of the corner of my eye but I’m distracted by the blood careening down my nose that I have to grab the closest absorbent thing to me and wipe my face.
That absorbent thing? A diaper.
I am now sitting in the parking lot of Target, unaware of anyone watching the horror show of this woman popping her zits in the mirror and then WIPING UP THE MESS WIHT A DIAPER.
I waited a good 5 minutes in the car to ensure that anyone sitting around me in other cars would leave or go in the store and not recognize me. Then I went along my merry way buying wipes for the now diaperless butt of my child because I stole the diaper for blood clotting on my zitty nose.