How the Cookie Crumbles

11:00 a.m. I'm insatiably hungry today and I'm waiting for my friend Jen to call so we can go to lunch. I had fruit for breakfast and it didn't fill me up in the slightest.

11:27 a.m. Jen calls to inform me she forgot to tell me she didn't make it in town from Austin today so we weren't going to grab lunch after all. This is fine, as it allocates more time for me to run errands for Adam's birthday (today).

11:56 a.m. After confirming that the Home Depot has the gas grill I want in stock, I jump in my little red hatchback and it starts to rain.

12: 04 p.m. It is raining harder as I park at Home Depot and race through the lot, the humidity already making me look like a drowned rat.

12:06 p.m. I spot the grill of choice and flag down a gruff female sales associate who fails to understand that I would like to take the grill home with me immediately and would appreciate it if she could retrieve one in a box so I can fit it in my tiny car. She begrudgingly retreats to the back. Fifteen minutes later, she returns, telling me she can only find another pre-assembled one but it is missing a knob. She again tries to coerce me into buying the floor model but I distastefully point out the rust to her. She sighs and tells me to check another store, at which point I suggest that she call one for me. Instead, she searches the handy dandy Home Depot inventory computer, which tells me a store five miles away has eight in stock. I ask if she can call and confirm and she yells to several employees to obtain the number but all are dumbfounded and unwilling to look it up. I tell them to never mind and proceed to the next store.

12:41 p.m. I arrive at store #2 and I am approached by yet another older woman, though this one seems more helpful. She immediately begins checking shelves for my grill and during this time, another associate asks if she needs help and they both peruse the store. Unfortunately, after ten minutes of thorough hunting, they can only find one in a rather damaged box that they'd rather not sell to me. Their floor model, however, is in impeccable shape and I suggest we take the sides off so I can fit it in my car. They do not seem very willing to do so and offer to continue looking if I can find a larger vehicle and come back. I can go back to work and grab the church van, no problem.

1:13 p.m. Famished and frustrated, I pop into Jimmy John's for a to go sandwich and cookie that I can eat back at the office. After paying, I ask for a water and they hand me a tiny Styrofoam coffee cup. With furrowed brow, I ask if I could please have a to go cup with a lid. They tell me it will be an additional 25 cents. Ridiculous. I tell them to forget it, leave the stupid coffee cup on the counter and head out the door.

1:21 p.m. Fed up but not fed, I unwrap my cookie from the cellophane and take a few bites. As I turn the corner onto my office's street, the cookie crumbs fly into my eye, causing near blindness and nearly sending me reeling into the car in the next lane. At this point, I deem my bad luck of the day as a sign that I should not drive the church van and decide that the thought of me attempting to unload a fully assembled grill from three feet up in a van, down into my new garage will most likely result in fatality or serious injury to either myself or the grill, so I surrender the idea of doing this myself and resort to having Adam come with me to pick up his present after work.

I just wanted to surprise him with his gift, but the only gift I brought back with me today was one in a lovely red box from Aunt Flo. I want to go back to bed.