Why I am done bad-mouthing a certain behemoth corporate conglomeration

It's happened again. Despite making my password so difficult that I can't remember it without the aid of a cheat sheet, and despite hiring new and improved bouncers to guard the invisible boundaries of my email account, I'm back to trying to sell myself a "HUGE selection of swis rol_ex watchs." It's amazing. Not my choice of marketable wares, but that a) I could be so GUILEFUL and b) CONCURRENTLY lose all ability to spell.

But I'm feeling sympathetic and magnanimous, so I've decided to forgive myself (while I go ahead and change my password yet again). I'm feeling especially compassionate because I was recently the recipient of a Christmas miracle.

I'm not proud of this, but (almost) nothing gives me more satisfaction than openly bitching about Wal-Mart. Well, except for maybe bitching about RVs. And the -30 degree temperatures here at night. And how many days are left before January 2009. Oh, and my supercool ability to spam myself.

But back to Wal-mart. I complain about the usual stuff -- their underpaid staff. Their ruination of downtown. Their customers who cut in line while talking on their cell phones all the while ignoring their offspring who have just torn open a box of crackers and called me a whore when I kindly asked them to not fondle my groceries.

No more. I am DONE bitching about Wal-Mart. Here's why: I wrapped a cloak of courage around my shoulders and went there to pick up some necessities four days before Christmas. I normally don't go there even one MONTH before Christmas, too cowardly to subject myself to all the consumeristic chaos. But this was an emergency, and so there I was, braving the usual collision course while trying to get in and out in record time. Which I'm happy to report, I did. I didn't leave my house again for another two days. (Those subzero temps and all.) I wouldn't have left for another FIVE days, but I don't have cable or dish or something equally entertaining, and my Christmas vacationing children were tired of staring into the abyss of a book. By association, I was tired of hearing their sarcastic lamenting. So I offered to rent them a movie, and that's when I realized that I needed money. And my rental card. And my driver's license. MY WALLET, to be more specific.

I spent half an hour looking before finally embracing the sad, sad realization that, in my haste to get out of Wal-Mart, I had left my wallet somewhere in the paying vicinity. TWO DAYS later I am realizing this. Which equals two YEARS when it comes to wallet missingness. I know this because it wasn't but two MONTHS ago that Allan lost his. At a Wal-mart, coincidentally.

So we went back. And I stood in the customer service line for another half an hour. And when I finally shoved my way past the lady in the wheelchair trying to cut me, I conjured up tears and BEGGED the woman behind the counter to PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE make this Christmas magical for me.

Brace yourselves, people...... SHE DID. She was tired and angry and begrudgingly wearing an over-sized Santa's cap, but she still found it in her to produce a small miracle for me. This gorgeous Wal-Mart Customer Service Lady stepped into a room and came back from behind the carefully locked office carrying my beloved wallet in the air like it was the Christmas roast beast and she was none other than the reformed GRINCH. Not a single solitary dollar bill was missing, my friends. Not a credit card. Not a check. Not a receipt. Not even a piece of Trident gum tucked into the side pocket. It was all there in its glorious dishevelment.

And so we left, and I rented UnderDog, and in the silent darkness of the night, I watched SUPERBAD, too. And when it was all said and done, I whispered a prayer of gratitude... because I won't have a teenager in this house for another three years. And because Wal-Mart didn't have a party wherein everyone sat around and divied up my measly assets while mocking my driver's license photo. (who knows, maybe they actually did the latter). But I forgive them if they did because they put it back in the end.

Wal-Mart... blessed, blessed Wal-Mart, I will never speak ill of you again. (too loudly.)

Happy 2008, everyone!