Boomerang
It happened again. This time I was in an unknown city, unknown Walmart, nonchalantly making my simple selections and placing them at the bottom of the metallic, tic-tac-toe patterned shopping cart. I always get the cart with the jumpy wheel and we lurch along aisle after aisle. I figure the extra noise from my cart alerts shoppers I am coming through plus I am too lazy to get a new cart. "What if I try three more carts and they all have bad wheels?" I muse. I am purposely trying to distract myself as I make my way toward the cosmetic and pharmaceutical section. At last, I have no choice and no other purchases so I glide over and find myself face to face with my last dreaded selection. I have to purchase more adult diapers for my twenty-two-year-old. There are purple diapers, there are green diapers, there are even some with pretty lace and butterflies, but I hate them all. The pit in my stomach grows larger and a low groan emerges. "Oh, no! It's h...