A bag lady and her trolley

I left my bag in the trolley at the sports shop today.  I left it in there and almost drove away. Wtf?! Sure, I was a little frazzled after shopping with the boys after school, but really? I never even did that when I was pregnant and my brain turned to mush the first time.
I don’t know why, but on some days the boys stop thinking things through like they normally do, and today was one of those days. I am tired and I can feel my throat getting swollen and uncomfortable – presumeably I am allergic to cheesecake – so I can’t remember any of their crazy antics, but go and ask that guy at the shop and he could probably list off a bunch of things about “that crazy lady and her kids”, probably things about me on one hand and about the kids on the other. But maybe he won’t, because he sold a bunch of stuff to a person who is probably too tired and busy (opening the red) to bring all that heavy shit back if something goes wrong, he knows which side his bread is buttered on. (I attribute that to my parents and it seems to fit here, but really, wtf does that mean?)
Anyhoo, how does one forget their bag? I put all the stuff in the car, with the help of said guy, got the kids half organized in the back seat, then ran the trolley back to the front of the store, with my bag in it, right there in front of my eyes. Perhaps I was too distracted by my fingers sticking to the metal, it was mofo’ing cold. Perhaps I was thinking ahead to the inevitable risotto and cheesecake; perhaps I was thinking about some peace and fucking quiet when husband takes all three boys out to use their brand spanking new fishing rods. Perhaps I was thinking about going back into the store and staring down the cashier who had the temerity to answer me with what might have been disdain, when I asked her for help, and sharing some rude words with her. Hmmm, one guess what I am reliving right now. Whatever it was, I’m glad I shook it off in the car JUST BEFORE I DROVE AWAY, and sprinted back and got my bag, because I have important things in there. Husband would suggest important things like my wallet full of credit cards and other ID, my boys would volunteer the whopping $5 caaaaaaaaash i have tucked in there, I would jump in straight away and say that my phone is pretty dang important – I can’t remember to do anything if I don’t get a nice little harpsicord reminding me about everything.  But let’s not forget the nice new shade of grown up lady lip colour I have, or nearly 3yo spare underpants (I have whittled it down to one pair), or my very old notebook that I have had for more than a decade and still like to write in occasionally, when my boys will give me back one of my pens. I also have gum, supposedly for calm and relaxation, which I obviously forgot about whilst shopping; vintage hankies, and whatever else is in there is not as important. Whilst those things are forgettable, obviously, the bag isn’t. ‘Sup with that, brain?


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