Don’t stand (or park. or breathe.) so close to me

So, it’s occurred to me recently that maybe I shouldn’t venture out into the public around the holidays. Or ever, really. I think I’ve mentioned before that I have issues with there being too many people in one space. Specifically stores. Well, the last couple of days have proven to me that not only are most people assholes that have absolutely no concern for the people around them, but that maybe I should seek medication to keep me tame when I venture outside my house.

The other night, we all went up to the grocery store to get some random crap that we needed and to partake in this Redbox movie rental thingie. (You pick out a movie and feed it your credit card and they charge you $1 and spit out your movie.) Now, going through the store, I was my usual self, dodging people with all the skill of a blind elephant. Naturally, my nerves were a bit frayed, but I was well within my not-kicking-everyone’s-asses-yet limits. Checking out was a bit of an adventure since my son decided to pick that particular time to become attached to my hip as literally as he could. He knows I have issues with people getting in my personal space, but he figures that he can invade it since I’m his mama or whatever.

Well, we finished checking out and went to the Redbox thing. We picked out the movies we wanted to watch and I told Greg to watch the cart while I did everything with the card. (Come to find out, when I told Greg to watch everything, there was a dude that looked like he might’ve been homeless eyeballing the cart. If I’d have seen him, I’d have probably offered him some of our groceries, but that’s a different story for a different entry.) As I’m reading the instructions, a lady comes up behind me with her cart, waiting for me to finish. Ok, no big deal. Generally when I realize there’s someone behind me, I try to hurry up with whatever I’m doing, just to be polite. The Redbox was not cooperating, however, so I was moving as fast as it would let me. I looked over my shoulder to see where Greg and the boy were and I saw nothing but brown, frizzy hair. Seeing as how Greg doesn’t have massive amounts of brown, frizzy hair and my kidling happens to be a Ginger, I knew the mass of fuzz didn’t belong to anyone I knew. I inched closer to the Redbox and tried to make it go faster.

As I was waiting for it to spit the first movie out at me, The Fuzz (which is what I’m calling this chick) bumped me. Since it was the first time, I apologized. I have a talent for falling while standing still, so it could very well have been me that bumped The Fuzz. The Fuzz didn’t acknowledge that I had even spoke, just kept on reading the sales ad, so I went about my business. While waiting for the second movie to be spit out, The Fuzz bumped into me AGAIN. Now, the first time, yeah, could’ve been me. The second time? There is no way in hell I bumped her cuzz I was pretty much on top of the Redbox at this point. I took a deep breath and tried to let it go. My little Ginger kid was with me and I try not to lose my shit in front of him. I mean, I’m already gonna win Mommy Of The Year, no need to pad the results further.

Before I was finished, The Fuzz had bumped me another THREE times. Not once did she even acknowledge that I was there. As soon as I walked away from the machine, The Fuzz was right on top of it, so I know she knew I was there. As we all walked out to the car, I started bitching about The Fuzz invading my space. That’s when Greg told me that he was watching the whole time and was just waiting for me to explode, which proved to me that I was not the one bumping into her. Grr.

As we were attempting to pull out of the parking space some dude, that very well could’ve been The Fuzz’s twin, decided that right then would be a good time to take his sweet ass time walking behind my car. That, of course, made me even more stabby.

By the time we got home, a minimum of 5 other people had decided to either walk in front of the car or hit me with their car. I was pretty much completely frazzled by the time I walked in the door of my house. Even the cats knew enough to get out of my way at that point.

The lesson here? If you see me, do your damnedest to not stand, park or breathe too close to me. I hate breathing other people’s breath more than I hate clowns, so breathing in my face is just asking for me to kick your ass.

Tell me, intarwebz, am I the only person who gets bothered by shit like this? I really don’t think I am and if it turns out I am? Well, I guess I’ll just have to wear a warning sticker or something.

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