So I woke up this morning kind of excited to get going, I was going to paint the family room today and was happy to get it started. I took Bryan to school at 9 and planned on a quick stop at walmart to pickup the paint. (my neighbor just told me to buy it there, otherwise I never would have thought of walmart) I already knew what color I wanted, so it was going to be a quick stop. I waited at the paint counter for 20 minutes, then decided to look for someone to help me. No one to be found, I stopped at the clearance section and found some nice hurricane vases for $5, put them in the cart and tried to find an employee. Waited for another 15 mins., remembered I needed a treat to pass along for the Halloween Ghost thing (where you leave treats for someone with a cute little ghost that tells them to pass it on to someone else), go and get treats and a couple other things. I try to find someone one more time, again no one to be found. ( I think they had a couple of exec.s there and were having some meetings, but still.....) decided I'd come another day and deal with it later. (or most likely go to Home Depot where I'll actually get some help...) I finally make it to the checkout and go to the express lane, I had been there much longer than I had wanted to be. I watched the prices as the checker scanned my items. (just like my mother taught me to do) and stopped her when she rang up the vase and it said $20. I showed her the price tags, etc and she called her supervisor over, who then called someone across the store, etc. etc. etc. to make a very long story short I had to wait at the cash register for 30+ mins while it all got straightened out! I was there for more than 2 hours. Why do I keep going back to Walmart????? I went home and decided to sit down for a minute with a glass of milk while Daniel played with his new bob the builder play dough set (another Clearance find). I had opened the window to cool it down a bit and now it was freezing, (which is actually very welcome considering it's been in the 90's for the last couple of days) I put my glass down where I *thought* it was safe and worked on getting the window to close. Just as it slid into place I heard something sloshing and looked down just in time to see my milk pour into the crevices of my couch. That's right my couch. Whoever came up with the saying, "Don't cry over spilt milk," was a moron. Of course that moron probably never even imagined that another moron (me) would spill it into their couch, but still, a moron. Don't cry over spilt water? Fine, water dries and doesn't leave a stench behind when it does. So today, instead of painting my family room a beautiful shade of whickam gray, I am spending it washing and wiping and dabbing milk out of my sofa.... and probably crying just a little about my spilt milk.