My favorite thing in the whole wide world is playing grocery store tag with one of those old ladies from church on a Sunday morning at around 11 a.m. See, I know that they're just getting to the store because they go to the early service and I, well, I just don't go to any service unless I feel like it, so chances are that I've only been awake for about an hour and my hair is hidden under some sort of hat and I'm still wearing slippers because I didn't have the energy to put on socks.

So I have to hide so I don't feel her stares of judgment.

The church we go to is pretty open-minded, but there are a few older ladies that definitely give me the stink-eye whenever I see them, and this forces me to go into a tirade about religious oppression and my freedom to worship as I choose, which for me usually involves sleeping in and having waffles on Sunday, and sometimes running to the store so we can have sandwiches for lunch on those big fluffy rolls, because those are completely amaaaaaaazing.

Anyhow, then I catch sight of Mrs. So and So, approaching at a speed of up to two miles per hour, and I have to duck behind the oranges and then huddle by the floor until I can see that she's occupied enough in something else, probably looking disapprovingly at the goth couple who are shopping for doughnuts, and then scurry away, keeping it low so she doesn't catch a glimpse of me. Usually, I am wearing a bright pink sock monkey hat at the time, so this is no easy task. I then have to look up and down the aisles before I enter or leave one (because there's no way I'm just leaving...I hate grocery shopping a lot, and I have to get it over with), and then rush to get everything on my list.

And then, normally, I get to giggling about something else, like the lady who wears makeup in the style of Mimi from The Drew Carey Show, and BAM!

I let my guard down. She sees me.  "Hi! I didn't see you at early service!" Crap. So I say, "No, I had to work."

Work. On a Sunday. I actually do work on Sundays, sometimes, but that's definitely not the case on this particular Sunday, and that's kind of obvious. She looks me up and down, and I can just feel the "tsk, tsk, tsk" in her mind.

I walk away, feeling like a bad person. But not really too much because I get to go out to the car and laugh about how she always has one of those boogers in her nose that moves in and out when she breathes. Ha ha ha....gross.