What's Next?

I carefully avoid Wal-mart.  I don't go.  Ever.

Except I got a hot tip on some Adirondack chairs in bright red and blue at Wal-mart.

And I wanted some.

Rats.

I didn't want to go to Wal-mart.  Darkening their door after vowing never again felt like tossing my integrity to the wind.

Curse their lower prices.

I prepared myself.  I mustered the psychological moxie I'd need.  The cranky incompetent employees!  The crowded miserable aisles!  The off beat, unsettling customers in their sloppy clothes and with excessive skin exposure (just because they make it in your size. Doesn't. Mean. You. Should. Wear. It.)

See?  Wal-mart makes me grouchy.  And judgmental.  And miserable.

So I stay away.

But those chairs...

I went.

Going around a tight corner with my cart, a fellow shopper (who looked normal) stepped aside and smiled and motioned for me to go first.

When I bought the chairs, the polite and efficient checker pointed out one of them was cracked.  The man in the wheel-chair in line behind me graciously waited for me to turn around my cart to go get another chair and cheerfully said, "No problem," when I apologized.

Back in the garden center when I retrieved a new chair and then left through the garden center exit, the employee waved me through without bothering to see my receipt and said, "Have a good day!"

Weird.

What's next?

Bliss while cleaning my bathrooms?

Enjoyment taking my three children on errands?

My world feels a little rocked, a little less predictable.