My back porch, showing the grill (big snow covered mound in center), the
round table (big snow covered mound on right), chairs (big snow
cov.... you get the idea), and the blue thing -- a fabric cutting
mat that is buried in the snow up to the 14-inch mark.
round table (big snow covered mound on right), chairs (big snow
cov.... you get the idea), and the blue thing -- a fabric cutting
mat that is buried in the snow up to the 14-inch mark.
Front yard - that's a tiny bird house in the middle there. Not sure
what the roof load is but I don't think this one's occupied.
what the roof load is but I don't think this one's occupied.
I got off early yesterday so I ran by Sam's Club to pick up some things I've needed but had put off buying all week. And surprise! The disaster-avoiders were out in force. Not a single flake had hit the ground yet (unless Al Franken had tripped getting out of a limo somewhere) but already every single loaf of bread was gone. I didn't need bread but I felt this strange urge to get some, simply because everyone else was frantically searching for the one overlooked loaf that, in theory, could have fallen under the vegetable display case. I tell you what, we turn into some bread-eating fools once the snow comes.
I just needed some shampoo, onions, and like that. Plus, I knew I'd be getting whatever Sam Walton forced me into getting because it was just too good of a deal not to get. (like pickle relish, how can you pass on a gallon jug of pickle relish for the price of a 12oz jar in the supermarket?) Then there are the muffins as big as your head. How can you ignore a muffin that could keep you fed into January should the snow dictate it?
Anyway, the onions. I really had trouble getting to the onions due to the survivalists milling about the bread zone. Pretty much I think it's a tribal thing -- somewhere in our DNA we have instructions to gather and grumble when the Gods don't provide for our deepest needs.
So, being trained in creative thinking by internet games, a solution came to me: I went two aisles away (motor oil, rags-in-a-box, hand tools) and just called out loudly: "Bread!" Then I scooted around the corner and flank attacked the onions in the now deserted bread zone. The hoards were trampling each other in the automotive section by then.
I contemplated using the bread trick again at the registers, but by then I was feeling a little guilty about the first exploit. Glancing back at the first melee, I saw several fights in progress, and there were children crying, much weeping, etc. Probably best to just wait in line like everyone else.
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