Today's minor story of woe (or: whoa, you're a dipshit!) (or: maybe you should be more observant)
2001 11 02
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I went downtown today to practice the ancient art of shopping as a celebratory ritual. I thought to myself that I should buy some books as my reward; so off to the bookstore I trotted with atm card in hand.
I poured through the stacks and shelves and sales tables, picking myself out some nice literary treats, and went to the counter to pay for them. Lo and oh-woely, my bank card had managed to disappear between my home and the bookstore's check-out desk.
"Shit," says I, "I'll have to go across the street to the bank and get a new one." I was only minorly put out by this disappearance, since one no longer has to wait six weeks to get a new bank card; they'll do it for you right on the spot.
Today was the day of the Really Long Bloody Queue In The Bank. After half an hour of waiting in line between the old Scottish lady who wanted to gossip, and the young man with a run-amok toddler, I procured my new atm card. "Damnit," says I, "Now I'll have to memorise a new bank card number. Bugger."
I got back to the bookstore to pay for the stack of books I'd left on the counter, only having had my starvation genes slightly teased by the smell of greasy foods from the mall's nearby food court. Madame le Check-out Lady picks up my Dickens and rings it through, proceeds to pick up my Homer and ring that through, and right on top of Wilkie Collins' Moonstone is, you guessed it, my (now useless) old bank card.
It's now resting a useless death in the garbage bin of the bookstore, after being cut in fours by a whopping great pair of scissors the lady lent me for the task.
Oh, why was I celebrating? Because I got accepted to Athabasca University.