uhmygosh, oshkosh

little boy. overalls. what's not to love.
today i went to albertson's, the most ghetto grocery store on the planet, to stock up on formula.
oh wait - i don't think i wrote about weaning. t2 and i had a six month contract, which officially expires next week. it's bye bye booby. except for the first morning feeding. i hope to keep that one as long as i can so i can stay in bed while he chows and drift off for another half hour or so. purely for my convenience. i so deserve it.
anyway, i was hoping to stock up on formula because we're going to utah tomorrow. i needed a couple of 26 ounce cans.
this is how ghetto albertson's is - they keep the forumla locked in a glass case.
they also lock up the razors. the beer, wine and hard liquor, meanwhile, is sitting out on the shelves just waiting to be stolen.
you actually have to press a button that summons someone to come unlock the formula case which is the funniest thing in the world because albertson's has the WORST customer service in all of LA.
so i'm in the baby aisle and i see that they're out of 26 ounce cans, so i guess i have to get a few 12 ounce cans which is a real drag. the 12 ounce cans are in this dispenser thing, which is usually not locked. so i grab for what i want. it won't budge.
it's locked. a $10 can of baby food.
sigh.
so i punch the buzzer thing and a lady comes with keys.
only not the right keys.
she yells down the aisle to someone else, who comes with more keys.
only those are also the wrong keys.
meanwhile, i leave my cart and go get all the other things i need. i come back and the lady is still fiddling with the lock.
are you kiddin me?
10 minutes later, she BREAKS INTO IT with a coat hanger. and, of course, there's only one can of the formula i want.
heaven help me.
this is just the kind of thing that gets me frazzled and causes me to do something stupid, which i did.
an hour or two after i got home, tayloe walked in the door with my wallet.
him: did you lose this?
me: i didn't think so?
silence.
me: where was it?
him: on top of your car.
me: aaacccckkk
him: did you put it there when you got home?
me: silence. scared look. um, no.
him: i don't want to know. just try not to put your wallet on the roof of the car, ok?
me: check.