Sometimes I Really Like My Life.

Grocery shopping day, for most women. For this one? Madcap romantic adventures. Specifically (today), a deli worker of all but 20 years old (he used to be a checkout boy, he couldn't wait until he turns 21 to buy his own beer) gifted me with 4 boxes of conversation hearts... and his number. He would like to have coffee, he knows I have a kid "but that's totally cool, like-- we can go somewhere that she can come too if you feel safer that way".

Aww... that's so sweet, really. But, I will be keeping the conversation hearts. And I may give some of them to my boyfriend.

(I'm sorry, really-- it's just true)

Forward, checkout line. My daughter wanted 3 items that she had at some point in our trip realized that she needed desperately, immediately, and could not risk me not buying-- so had attempted to hide them from me cleverly in my very own backpack. I always check my backpack for just such a reason, however, and was able to avoid criminal conversion charges for unwittingly smuggling the following out on her behalf:

- 2 bags of Old Wisconsin Beef Bites (which she later referred to simply as 'that bag of beef'-- and she was referring to the one bag that yes, I totally bought)

- 1 bag of Pork Rinds (because child cannot live on beef alone)

- 1 bottle of feminine hygiene wash ("Why this?" "Um because there's this butterfly on it-- can't you see?" Obviously not. Oh wait, maybe that's because you had shoved it into the bottom of my backpack before we left a store-- but no worries, I have no doubt the police woman would also be very fond of the butterfly. I mean, look at it. It's purple, for the love of all things shoplifted)

Upon my arrival home, there was one other surprise for me-- 2 bags of Twizzlers from my Aunt Crystal. Aunt Crystal is pretty much who I want to be when I grow up-- she gardens in the right seasons, she doesn't miss birthdays, she uses stationary instead of notebook paper, she can grow things on windowsills in bottles, a skill I did not acquire from her mother and my favorite grandparent, and she knows about my completely irrational mad love of Twizzlers and that it was something I might happen to need right now.

With this extra positive energy coursing through my veins, the practical thing would be to use it to clean my fucking pit of a house.

Or... to eat twizzlers wrapped around beef bites in my pajamas. Yes, yes, that will do. Tonight I really like my life. Why try to improve upon perfection right this second?