Not the same.

Saturday was a lazy day for me.  I had previously asked Cameron if we could get out of the house and go explore a park or something else equally as fun, but when Saturday dawned dreary and cold, I changed my mind.  I didn’t even clean the house like I usually do!  This, my friends, is not normal.  Instead, I drank coffee, ate my favorite donut muffins and read a book.  

All day.

Cameron, being the fabulous dad that he is, took Faith fishing while the rest of us indulged in laziness, but about 4:00, I realized that I would actually have to cook dinner.  We had planned to have cheese dip and fried chicken.

Healthy, I know.

I was out of milk and had maybe a cup of flour.  Ugh.  I grabbed a jacket and headed to the store.  I ran through the store, really not liking the Chinese people or their country.  I had to fight the desire to kick people out of my way, and I was really glad I don’t know how to rudely say “Move!” in the local language.  I may have said it under my breath in English though.  You see, people here were born without the ability to hurry.  Maybe even without the ability to notice when they are blocking an entire aisle while they chat it up with their friends.  

As I got to the register, I was feeling relieved that there was only one lady in front of me.  Then I noticed that she was checking prices.  Of a lot of items.  Resisting the urge to roll my eyes (I know!  The enemy had me in a battle!), I patiently (on the outside) waited.  Then the lady in the next aisle over crammed her cart into my aisle knocking into me.  Then, as I was getting rung up, the people behind me were talking to the checker.  The lady who still hadn’t left even though she had paid, was talking to the checker, trying to get her ring up two things that she had found under her bag…but my transaction was about half done, so she couldn’t.  And the checker was looking at me.  So, I handed her, in the midst of chaos, my shopping store card.  I have no idea what the benefit actually is of scanning this card, but it is just part of the process.  She looked at it, looked at me, looked at the card, shrugged her shoulders and handed it back. 


She didn’t scan it.  Whatever.

As I paid, a man and his child ran into me from behind, knocking me into the counter, and I didn’t feel like asking what the problem was.

Then, as I was walking off, putting it back into its proper slot in my purse, I realized that it was my door card, to get into my house.  Not to buy groceries.  I’m sure she was thinking, “Stupid Foreigner”.  Ha!



These cards may look alike, but they are NOT the same.


One thought on “Not the same.

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