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Today's Bargains
May. 2nd, 2008 06:47 pmI left work 2 hours early with my boss' blessing. . . If I keep going at this pace what will there be for my volunteers do next week? Maximum bicycle: minimum traffic!
Once home, I find Dan hangin' out waitin' on Scotty, for a change. So, back in the car, a round-a-bout trip taking BLD home to Barcroft led to me picking up barley milk and cat cereal for Scotty and his monkey (for which he always pays ca$h) from the SFW at Se7en Corners. Yeah, he sent me on my way with a coupla twenties and told me to get a six pack of whatever I wanted, to boot. A twelve pack of his Sierra Nevada was on sale ($14.69 and with no need of a fuckin' card!) and by scrutinizing their big walk-in beer fridge I picked up a cold six pack of Tire Bite, despite the fact that I had initially picked out a warm ½ doz. of Backdraft Brown because I was in the mood to try something local. I went with something safe.
At the check out the demure little Guatemalan chick rings me up and tells me the total, "forty-one doollares and forty-seven cintah". A buck short. . . a perfect opportunity to launder some cash for Scotty and squirrel a bean but when I go to authorize the transaction the cold, hard machine says $31.47. "Oh, I coulda paid cash for that", I say. She doesn't seem to care and asks me, "credeet or dah-beet?" I'm thinkin', and thinkin', and thinkin' and say, "debit", but I need to give Scotty back some change all the sudden. She presses a bah-ton and the machine prompts me to swipe my card again, so I decide that I'd really like to just give her cash. . . If I still can. She smiles and is seemingly cool with it all but, at the time, I imagine her believing me to be one of the cattle-herd-dumb americans stymied by choice, paralyzed buy my very freedom. I hand her Scotty's dirty twenties and accept my change in return, cramming all but the coins into the top of the SN 12-pack box and head from there up to the Unique thrift at Merrifield in search of a plastic bin with a snap-fit lid out of which to make one of these. My thinking being that if we can keep boxes containing cat shit inside the house and that getting spread about on lived in levels of 1006, then what's the matter with a bin to throw kitchen scaps into with a few hundred worms in the basement that will never leave the safety of their little drain pan? . . . well, unless they want to come fishing ;)
. . .. But they didn't have any square, plastic bins with snap-fit lids at Unique at Merrifield (or, at least, didn't have any lids) But I did find a 6 quart electric crock pot with a glass lid and ceramic cook surface in "like new" condition for $15. Now I can return Helen's with the plastic lid that always leaves me short of potatoes and cabbage. This'n'll cook a lot of cabbage! Finally, when I got home and cracked one of the still-cold, I might add - even of after all the running all over Trafficland in rush hour, Tire bite ales and pulled the coins out of my pocket for the "BEER MONEY" jar I discover that chika had given me a 1964 series silver quarter back with my change!
SCORE!
. . . And to just sweeten the the deal, my Tire Bites were brewed under "special agreement" in Frederick, Md, less than an hour north of Annun-deleh. Some days you just can't get away from crappy little shit going wrong, as well as, others you can't get away from crappy little shit going your way!
Once home, I find Dan hangin' out waitin' on Scotty, for a change. So, back in the car, a round-a-bout trip taking BLD home to Barcroft led to me picking up barley milk and cat cereal for Scotty and his monkey (for which he always pays ca$h) from the SFW at Se7en Corners. Yeah, he sent me on my way with a coupla twenties and told me to get a six pack of whatever I wanted, to boot. A twelve pack of his Sierra Nevada was on sale ($14.69 and with no need of a fuckin' card!) and by scrutinizing their big walk-in beer fridge I picked up a cold six pack of Tire Bite, despite the fact that I had initially picked out a warm ½ doz. of Backdraft Brown because I was in the mood to try something local. I went with something safe.
At the check out the demure little Guatemalan chick rings me up and tells me the total, "forty-one doollares and forty-seven cintah". A buck short. . . a perfect opportunity to launder some cash for Scotty and squirrel a bean but when I go to authorize the transaction the cold, hard machine says $31.47. "Oh, I coulda paid cash for that", I say. She doesn't seem to care and asks me, "credeet or dah-beet?" I'm thinkin', and thinkin', and thinkin' and say, "debit", but I need to give Scotty back some change all the sudden. She presses a bah-ton and the machine prompts me to swipe my card again, so I decide that I'd really like to just give her cash. . . If I still can. She smiles and is seemingly cool with it all but, at the time, I imagine her believing me to be one of the cattle-herd-dumb americans stymied by choice, paralyzed buy my very freedom. I hand her Scotty's dirty twenties and accept my change in return, cramming all but the coins into the top of the SN 12-pack box and head from there up to the Unique thrift at Merrifield in search of a plastic bin with a snap-fit lid out of which to make one of these. My thinking being that if we can keep boxes containing cat shit inside the house and that getting spread about on lived in levels of 1006, then what's the matter with a bin to throw kitchen scaps into with a few hundred worms in the basement that will never leave the safety of their little drain pan? . . . well, unless they want to come fishing ;)
. . .. But they didn't have any square, plastic bins with snap-fit lids at Unique at Merrifield (or, at least, didn't have any lids) But I did find a 6 quart electric crock pot with a glass lid and ceramic cook surface in "like new" condition for $15. Now I can return Helen's with the plastic lid that always leaves me short of potatoes and cabbage. This'n'll cook a lot of cabbage! Finally, when I got home and cracked one of the still-cold, I might add - even of after all the running all over Trafficland in rush hour, Tire bite ales and pulled the coins out of my pocket for the "BEER MONEY" jar I discover that chika had given me a 1964 series silver quarter back with my change!
SCORE!
. . . And to just sweeten the the deal, my Tire Bites were brewed under "special agreement" in Frederick, Md, less than an hour north of Annun-deleh. Some days you just can't get away from crappy little shit going wrong, as well as, others you can't get away from crappy little shit going your way!
