The day of the errand running

Yesterday was my day to run errands. Needless to say, you should prepare yourself for all the excitement.

I had to meet my new upholstery guy at his shop at 10:00 a.m. so he could show me all my different foam options for the bottom cushions. I think I forgot to mention that I’m not just getting slipcovers made, but also getting the bottom cushions rebuilt because how would you look if someone had sat on you every day for the last nine years?

I realize at this point you might be wondering why I didn’t just get a new couch. Or maybe you’ve died of boredom. Either way, the answer is that our couch has a slight curve to it that makes it the perfect shape for our somewhat awkward living room layout. And the only other couch I’d really want is this gorgeous leather couch from Restoration Hardware that would require us to take out a second mortgage on the house. And then we might end up living on the street, sleeping on a perfectly weathered, sumptuous leather couch.

Anyway, I had to go look at foam like I’m some sort of foam expert. It basically consisted of me pushing my hand down on various foam samples and saying, “Oh” in what I hope was an authoritative tone. New Upholstery Guy informed me that the original foam used in my couch cushions wasn’t nearly thick enough and was wrapped in a lot of dacron to compensate which is why my cushions have broken down.

And here I thought they’d broken down because they’ve been subjected to almost a decade of being spilled on and hopped on and turned into a makeshift fort. It’s been enough to bring me close to a breakdown and why should I expect more than that from my couch?

So we decided (He decided. I just stood there nodding like a total foam fraud.) on a much thicker foam for the new and improved cushions. I feel good about it.

After I left there I had to stop and fill up my car with gas. And that’s when my day got slightly more interesting.

(I know. You’re thinking HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? I mean, I picked out foam. A thicker foam than I’ve had before. You’d think the day hit a peak at that point. Understandably so.)

I pulled up at the gas pump and immediately noticed the car across from mine was an ancient station wagon piled TO THE BRIM with all manner of newspapers and trash and I don’t know what else because I was afraid to look for fear of seeing a dead body. I got out of my car and began to pump gas and perform my gas station ritual of throwing out all the empty Capri Suns and Gatorade bottles that have accumulated in my backseat since the last time I filled up.

And that’s when the owner of the station wagon filled with a possible dead body asked me about the t-shirt I was wearing. It’s the “Arise Africa” shirt that I wear about four times a week because it’s the softest shirt ever.

(Side note: Arise Africa is my friend A.J.’s ministry in Zambia. You’ll be hearing more about it in a week or so.)

And so he asked if my shirt said Arise Africa. I confirmed that it did. So he followed up by asking if I was in the Peace Corps. Because, clearly, I look like the Peace Corps type in my Nike running shorts and Volvo station wagon with soccer balls piled in the back.

I told him I wasn’t and then he told me that his daughter was delivered by a doctor from Africa who ended up killing his wife (not this man’s wife, his own wife) but that shouldn’t really matter because he was still a good doctor. Well, sure he was. Why hold a little thing like, oh I don’t know, MURDER against him?

It just seemed like a lot of information to relay to a stranger at the gas pump and was, frankly, so much more than I wanted to know. And since I’m so good in awkward situations, I mumbled something like “Well, that’s nice. Have a good day.” and then quickly got back in my car.

I made my way to HEB to buy groceries because I never really made a trip to the store last week and we were down to the bare essentials. Caroline’s lunch yesterday was basically a thing of mandarin oranges that I said a blessing over in the hope they would be fruitful and multiply.

(Get it? Fruitful?)

It is with great sadness that I tell you our HEB is still totally torn up. The cheese is still in the front of the store. But then there are other cheeses in the back of the store. And it took me a sweet forever to find the butter and sour cream.

However, I think I’ve figured out the issue. It’s because we just got that new Target complete with a grocery store AND we’re getting a Trader Joe’s. I suspect HEB is trying to fancy things up to hold our interest.

Which is nice and all, but FOR THE LOVE I just want all my cheese to be in one place.

And to not hear about murder at the gas station.

It doesn’t take much to make me happy. Especially now that I’m about to have the best foam ever on my couch.