What a Saint.

I was at Walgreens earlier this evening and found myself in the most ridiculous line for a pharmacy ever. I didn't think that everyone in the town would be sick, but that was clearly the case. I stood for twenty minutes before the line moved at all.

Surrounding me were several forty-something moms holding tissues to their noses, dressed in sweatshirts and pajama bottoms. Men were listening to their ring tones and smelling like smoke. The guy behind me stood very close to me and mirrored every slightest inch that I made toward the cash register, not understanding that I was trying more to get away from him than to get closer to checking out.

People periodically joined our slowest-parade-ever by coming around the aisle and remarking something akin to "Holy God" in amazement at the size of the line. Several were on their phones via bluetooth earpieces and begged for sympathy from their friends who were miles away, standing in lines at other retail stores.

People rolled their eyes and sighed heavily in hopes that being rude would make the pharmacists work harder. One lady sat in the chairs and tried to sleep. Her nose was red from blowing it so much, and her eyes were tired. From time to time she peered out from under her weighed-down lids at the mother-daughter couple that occupied the nearest chairs.

The girl was about eight and was talking. A lot. As is expected. And the mother would just sigh and ignore the little girl until she got too annoyed and threatened physical harm. At one point she vowed to "pop you one in the mouth" if the little girl did not "hush up." She was too busy singing along with Bob Seger, who was piped in over the intercom, to answer the many questions thrown at her, only taking the time to even acknowledge the girl with an exasperated "what???" whenever Bob was between verses.

The girl just wanted to talk, and the mother just wanted her to shut up.

Why do idiots have children when they only see them as perennial burdens? Were they let down in their expectations of what a child should be? Did they change one too many diapers? Did they never get used to cleaning vomit? Were they ever happy with their child?

Or are they just showing off? After a retort that the large woman found particularly witty, she gave a sly, knowing nod to the gentleman in front of me who looked like Frisch's Big Boy, hoping for some peer-praise for her bullying. I almost bored a hole in the back of that man's head, trying my best not to glare at her.

What a saint she is, to put up with that insufferable brat!

And what a saint I am, to judge her and not pray for her!

What a mess.