February 10, 2011

This post is not about my bowels.

Today, I found myself in need of a plunger. Suffice it to say that the toilet

Actually, no, nevermind. Suffice it to say that I needed a plunger. I don't have to say anything about why. I will say, though, that it's not because anyone clogged our toilet. That definitely never happened. In fact, I didn't even need it for the toilet. I just needed a plunger. For something completely unrelated. It had nothing to do with a clogged toilet. At all. So stop thinking that it did.

So anyway.

As Isaac had left with the car and wouldn't be back until right before I had to leave for work, and the toilet--I mean NOT the toilet, I mean, a project unrelated to clogged toilets that necessitated a plunger and

Whatever.

Since that project couldn't wait, I decided to walk over to Winner's Village Market to see what kinds of overpriced plungers they had in stock.

They had exactly one. One very cartoonish but not remarkably overpriced toilet plunger. I mean plunger. Just plunger.

I grabbed it enthusiastically and started to walk toward the cash register, but I ducked back into the aisle when I realized how suspicious I looked buying a plunger and nothing else. I didn't want the cashier to think that I came all the way to this crappy convenience store just for that; I didn't want to seem like the kind of person that needs to go on emergency plunger runs. So I grabbed a few other things to cushion its presence. I wanted this to seem like a casual purchase: "Yeah, I really came for this other stuff, but then I saw this plunger, and I was like, 'hey, why not? Never know when you'll need one!' 'Cause I actually don't need one right now. Like, not even a little bit. I couldn't possibly need this plunger less than I do right now. Seriously."

I took my three items up to the cash register and nonchalantly set them down on the counter. I adopted a posture of unmitigated detachment. "Oh, what's that? I'm buying a plunger? Oh, I didn't realize that. Well, ring it up anyway." I was ridiculously cool.

I watched the cashier's hands as he scanned each item.


 OH. NO.

I looked much worse than a person on an emergency plunger run. I looked like the kind of person who habitually

You know what, nevermind. Suffice it to say that I looked like an idiot and it sucked.

I quietly swiped my card, avoiding eye contact as I mumbled "debit." I slunk out of the store, trying very hard to be as cool as I had been before and failing miserably. The plunger didn't even fit in the shopping bag. I had to suffer the indignity of carrying it in my hand all the way back to the apartment. I'm pretty sure that everyone in the whole world drove past me during that four-minute walk.

Now I'm kicking myself for not buying a plunger that one time that I was thinking about buying a plunger. Plunger shopping is really not the kind of thing you want to do out of necessity. I mean, by the time you really need a plunger, your ego is already too bruised and delicate to actually suffer through the process of buying one.

3 comments:

  1. Plungers, poop, shame. Hahaha I love it. Don't worry, it happens to the best of us.

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  2. There's a label we have for this kind of thing on Twitter: #FirstWorldProblems

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  3. Twitter's so bien-pensant. And twee.

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