I drove in early Saturday morning, sure to miss the crowds. As I expected, the store was virtually empty. I barely noticed the woman and her daughter who entered just behind me. Making a beeline to the hair care aisle, I no sooner had began to survey the very sparse selection of curling irons when I realized the pair were on the same mission.
They sidled in from the left, and I kindly moved to my right. But my attitude quickly changed as they began reaching for the very last curling iron in the size I wanted. “I WAS HERE FIRST!!!” I internally screamed. “That curling iron should be MINE,” I seethed silently. Thankfully, they put “my” curling iron back on its hook and moved down the aisle. I snatched it quickly before someone else could. Continue reading “Curling Irons and Grace”