Courage

I have more fodder for the Hall of Shame:

I was in Wal-Mart, looking at hair products, when the bottle I was holding fell from my hands and crashed to the floor. The top came off and a sticky white goo oozed across the floor. I picked it up and tried to put it back together, to no avail. So I precariously balanced the top on the jar and put it on the shelf. I then went to the "Beauty" Department (if it can really be called that in a Wal-Mart. I've yet to see anything beautiful in there. Well, maybe once, but I was looking in the mirror) to buy make-up I can ill afford, and pay for my hair care choices. As I was waiting at the till, an employee came past me, covered in a sticky white goo (a look I am all too familiar with) and asked for a tissue. I was going to tell her that Kleenex is no good when you're trying to clean that off, but decided to hold my tongue.

I couldn't help but overhear what had happened. She was straightening bottles on the shelves in the hair care isle when she grabbed one off the shelf and the top flew off and sticky white goo shot all over her. I hid my mirth long enough to pay for my purchases and listened with a mixture of glee and guilt while the cashier and my victim talked about the nerve of some people. I guess they would have preferred that I had left the bottle on the floor, instead of trying to cover up the crime. I nearly apologised to the employee but the way the two of them were nattering on I decided it would be most unwise to bring my guilt to light.

I left there feeling more like myself than I had in a while, because the new and improved me (and decidedly very un-Elizabethan me) would have apologised and bought the broken bottle, while the old (and very Elizabethan me) would have laughed out loud and offered the poor woman advice on receiving "the facial". I guess I'm devolving into my old self, mean and cynical, jaded and heartless, and that is what I need right now. A touch of heartlessness to help me with the unpleasant tasks that are awaiting me.