Remind me to have some dinner before I shop the next time I get the brilliant idea to go running off to Ikea to meet Mr. Zoom after work on a Friday.
There's this thing about me. When I'm hungry, I "put on the cranky pants", as Mr. Zoom would say. That's actually a rather kind way of describing what we've come to recognize as "danger hungry".
If I'm forced to interract with anyone while in this particular mood, I'll shoot a hole in their soul with my conniption fit bazooka before anyone has a chance to throw a cracker at me. One might get away with a only flesh wound if the cracker actually makes it into my yapper.
Friday night I was in an ok hungry place when I got to Ikea. We spent a while there getting all of the things we've needed for the house that have been sold out for the last couple of months. I was standing with our cart, when a lady walked up to me and said: "Excuse me, but where can I find those carts?"
I verbally stumbled to tell her that they were located "over there" - pointing off to my left - "near the pet section, on the right...there's a dispenser over there that pops out the carts."
She looks at me and says "Aren't they over there?" as she points to my RIGHT, towards the cash registers. I think this was the exact, unfortunate moment that my blood sugar left my body and ran for the clearance section of Ikea without me.
I wanted to scream at her "IF YOU KNOW WHERE THEY ARE, WHY DID YOU ASK ME WHERE THEY ARE? Are you a mystery shopper? Because if you are, you suck. Because I DON'T WORK HERE. I'm simply a shy girl who finds it difficult to talk to strangers as it is, and I happen to have just lapsed into Danger Hungry. You asked me a question, and I did my best to answer it."
But I didn't. I just kindof squeaked in Mr. Zoom's direction and he took over for me. He politely told her that there might be carts by the registers, but we got ours from over by the pet section. She walked away, towards the pet section.
And then I started with the petulance. I said to Mr. Zoom, loud enough for many people to hear: "HOW can it be that she asked me a question, I answered it, and she ARGUED with me? Who does that? Who?"
Mr. Zoom, being on the receiving end of my hissyfit friendly fire got me out of the Ikea as fast as he could and drove us straight to some food. I'm still convinced my Mom paid him to marry me. I better tell her to start doubling those payments.