Witches Brewing

There was something strange in the air yesterday...

Yes, it was Columbus Day-- that questionable holiday that appears on the map each year, but it was more than that.

Yesterday afternoon, I pulled into a parking lot and nearly ran over a witch on rollerblades. Her cape blew in the wind as she circled the lot, scowling at me. I realize it's October and Halloween is imminent, but isn't it a litte early?

Evidently, she (which I suspect was a 'he' in witch's drag) was skating around to promote a children's dentist office. I don't know about you, but if I were a child, nothing would scare me away from the dentist more than a badly-dressed warlock masquerading as a witch. Frankly, it still scares me.

From there, I entered Blockbuster to take advantage of an e-coupon associated with their Blockbuster Rewards program. I subscribe to Netflix, but thought I'd try the competition's free trial since my Netflix queue now stands at 70+ titles. (I badly need to catch up!) Perhaps the witch scared all the movies away since Blockbuster doesn't seem to carry them anymore. After surveying the paltry selection, I ended up with Entourage Season 3, Part 1 (the only decent pick.)

Then, I went to Target to find that all the chipper, albeit useless, young adult team members had been replaced by haggard-looking, not-so-nice, post-menopausal women wearing odd, I-can't-tell-if-it's-a-costume ribbons in their hair.

Now, I have nothing against old people. In fact, I really like them (better than younger people sometimes even), but unlike the nice, older people that work as Wal-mart greeters, these women clearly did not want to be plodding down the aisles of my neighborhood Target. Collectively, they clutched their price scanners and glared at me as I dared to try on a hat in the accessories section.

The day before all of this, I'd gotten that nifty Social Security Administration notice in the mail telling me that I'm eligible for benefits. However, they also told me that they project that Social Security funds will be exhausted by 2041.

In the Target aisle, as I looked at the vultures circling around me, price scanners pointed in my direction, ribbons (like horns) standing on-end with static electricity I told myself,

"Kendra, quick! Do math in your head...2041...the year you were born...Will I, too, be doomed to pick up a broom and sweep the bull's eye corporation myself in a few years?"

It looks like I'll just barely make it... but there's no guarantee. The witches are brewing and I still could become one of them someday...

*Photo credit: Kenny Maths