I had an epiphany yesterday. I was standing in the middle of a Walmart pharmacy section with my newly purchased box of Samoas a bunch of little girls conned me into buying even though I probably won’t eat them. Those girls are so shifty. Have you ever had those Girl Scout cookies before? They are akin to tequila for me – every bite makes me want to strip down, put my underwear on my head, and do a seductive rendition of the chicken dance for everyone. Sexy, eh? I really know how to party. I was minding my own business, but then I was interrupted.
Walmart Lady: Is something wrong?
Me: I hate it here. That’s it … I hate being here. It’s driving me crazy.
Walmart Lady: Uhh, is there something that happened? Can I help you with something?
Me: Oh, no. Not here here. I mean, I kind of hate it here. Why does it seem like Walmarts are always in dusty old warehouses where they once held a bunch of Chinese kids hostage to make their clothes? Is that why your stuff is so cheap? Where are the children now? Where. Are. The. Children?!
Walmart Lady: …
Walmart Lady: I don’t know nothin’ about no Asians!
Me: *turns and quietly leaves*
I’ve come to hate living in this town. I’m not entirely sure where it stems from, but recently I’ve had the overwhelming feeling of needing to get out. Sheep aren’t made for the suburbs. There’s barely any room between the houses, silence is nonexistent, and it feels like privacy is hard to come by. I miss the country. I need to take some deep breaths of fresh air – cow shit and all. I’d even rather be closer to the beach.
I tried to ask my Mom for advice while I was driving home, and her wisdom was ‘just follow your heart!’ What kind of crappy advice is that? My heart is just telling me to go to the refrigerator.
I think it’s time to move.