Strain

Yesterday Julie went to Target in search of bins to put on the nursery's closet shelves. Into the bins will go crib sheets, burp towels, and anything else that won't fit in the dresser and might get dusty sitting there by itself.

She also bought a bunch of other junk at Target because, for us, Target is like recreation. Well, two things happened in succession at Target that are so ridiculous that they'll blow your mind. I wish I had been there to inject some sanity into the proceedings, but alas no.

First, the go-getter cashier decided that rather than bag the goods, he'd just place them all in one of the bins. Never mind that the bin ended up weighing over 40 pounds, and never mind that his customer was 8 months pregnant.

Second, Julie let him do it. Apparently once he finished, he stood there all pleased with himself as Julie lifted this bin into the cart. Who was more foolish in this situation? I think we have ourselves a tie. Then she lifted the bin from the cart to the car and drove home and complained of a sore back.

To which I replied with some passion: "You did what?! What did you think would happen? Why didn't you make him unload it or lift it for you?"

There were people in line. She just figured she'd lift it quick and be on her way.

"Unbelievable! And you're surprised your back hurts? Maybe you should help this cashier move out of his parents' basement this weekend. You could carry his boxes of magic cards and pewter Dungeons and Dragons figurines. Seriously!"

I'm not usually a total dick. At that moment, though, I was thinking about the baby, not Julie. That's something that new parents have to figure out because, I'll tell you, it doesn't work to get all papa bear on a pregnant lady who's just hurt her back.

At any rate, after some time with the heating pad, Julie's back felt better. I don't know if I should continue to urge Julie to take care of herself, find the Target employee and kick his ass, or just keep my loud mouth shut. Probably the last two.