Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Honesty is the Messiest Policy

So I was making a quick stop at the grocery store to pick up milk, because we were all out and I didn't want to wait for the grocery day tomorrow.

And they had a sale on butter, and I wanted to show D1 the fish, and we wound up in the electrical aisle, trying to find a three-way light bulb that would fit in our bedside touch lamp so I don't have to get up and switch it off every night.

One of the rows of bulbs was a little too close to the edge; I brushed it and down it smashed. The best thing to do seemed to be inform the lady we had just seen cleaning the fish tanks and have her come sweep it up. So I did.

Then, of course, the proper thing to do was to take the light bulb up and pay for it, though it pains me much to spend money on things that no longer exist. I picked up the box, which still had shards of lightbulb hanging out of it, and decided such a thing should not be in the cart where the ducklings might reach it. Instead, I put it on the bottom rack of the cart.

We meandered on, as I wanted to check out the clearance sales on clothes, and somewhere in between men's athletic wear and junior's seduction wear the box fell off the cart and shattered more shards of lightbulb everywhere. No salespeople were in sight this time, but I did spot a red phone for assistance, which I used to summon help from Sherry in Jewelry.

A lady appeared from somewhere, produced a broom and began sweeping up the mess. The box still contained shards of lightbulb (who knew one little lightbulb could contain so much glass?), so I explained my predicament and the history I and the lightbulb had together. She left the box in the pile of fragments and said to forget it, with a manner that indicated she could do her job better without interference from lunatics who try to transport lightbulb fragments in the bottom of their shopping carts.

So I gave it up and came home.

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