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| Heck, yes. |
I am in a clean, orderly, well-stocked store. The aisles are wide and free of debris. The prices are clearly marked, the lighting is bright, but not blindingly so, no. The stock person is pleasant and asks Can I help you find anything? but I shake my head, too stunned to speak, perhaps.
Note: And for those who are well-acquainted with The Trophy Wife and her propensity for unnecessary speech, this is shocking news indeed.
And the restrooms are fresh and smell, well, nice. There is no questionable, uh, floating matter in the toilet that needs flushing and the sink is not being used as a bidet by another patron, probably one of those crazy Europeans.
Note: I am not kidding about the sink/bidet episode. I saw it with my own eyes.
But now I am freaking out.
I am freaking out because I am in a K-Mart. A Big K, yes.
Heaven help me. I must be hallucinating.
I make my way to the front with my shiny cart with wheels that all roll the same direction, even. Suddenly, all is well. My accelerated heart rate returns to normal. I can relax.
I can relax because the check-out lines are twelve customers deep. And the checkers are all moving in apparent slow motion. I will be waiting for at least thirty minutes.
Note: Now this is the K-Mart I know and love.
Additional Note: Not really. Who actually loves K-Mart?
But, Sweet Holy Moses, I am relieved. All is well in the world, indeed.
Heck, yes!
