Shopping drunk in a Marshalls was my high point.

I’ll admit it; my step wasn’t the sturdiest, and when I faltered—wiggling out of my winter coat, dumping it into my cart—I thought, Total ‘let’s watch the hidden camera footage’ moment. But there wasn’t shame for long. Ooh, where are the good hostess gifts?

I was, without question, totally aware of my ineptitude. I couldn’t find price stickers on boxes, and if asked to walk a straight line down the aisle of Ralph Lauren herringbone highballs, I would’ve swerved, counted the number of remaining glasses that actually matched one another, examined one underside for a price, and announced that my sister probably found them cheaper at TJ MAXX. Is it my imagination or does every discount store in the country sell Ralph Lauren high and low ball glasses? My point, other than that astute observation—I was aware that the moment was equivalent to wearing sweatpants on any show featuring Tim Gunn.

“Is that really what you wear in public Ms. Klein? It’s an egregious abuse of fabric. We’ll do what we can to make it work.”

And somehow, I made it work. I was a happy mess. With two glasses of Pinot Gris in me, I managed to ignore all the soap/cream/candle sets, but a snort might’ve escaped when I saw bath salts tied with an oversized bow. That’s where they get you. You go in there for a bargain, just to look, see what you might need. See what you need. The irony was not lost on me; if you have to see what you need, you don’t need it. And no one, aside from Daryl Hanna, needs bath salts.

I found what appeared to be an abandoned cart, and in it, what else but the ONLY Thomas The Train backpack in the store. I did the obligatory double-shoulder-furtive-glance and swiped the sucker. Dee dee dum. Then I hauled ass back to the kids section and decided to get the Dora & Boots backpack for Abigail. Hideous. So damn cheesy. I already heard myself qualifying, "Only for playing around the house, along with your stained clothes and that darling fisherman’s sweater with the damn hole in it." But she’ll love it. 

When I made my way to the front of the store the abandoned cart was still there, untouched. No guilt. So, while I’m at it, hello Lindt Chocolate Truffles, assorted variety (what else?). And that’s exactly what I am, the assorted variety. I love living in the swing of moments and moods, being aware, living, stumbling, and stealing the last drop.

My low point was earlier in the day when I bought a Bowdabra. Sober.

A YEAR AGO: Deleted Scene, Straight Up and Dirty, Following Up
2 YEARS AGO: Details Not Included, Come On, Do It With Me.
3 YEARS AGO: The Story of Abigail and Lucas
5 YEARS AGO: Good Guys Finish Last