getting out -- part one

So last week I had to paint my room.

Why?

Because last fall when I wanted to paint the room in very saturated hues I promised my roommate (the lease-holder) that I would. And I'm not one to break a promise, as much as I would have loved too. Besides, he had my deposit and might not have given it back. It's funny the things we do when someone can decide on a whim whether or not to return hundreds of dollars to us, isn't it?

Anyway, I had to paint my room and I had to paint it white. I needed a lot of paint and I needed it cheap. So I went to K-Mart. Just as I spotted a gallon of flat white, a K-Mart employee approached to ask if I needed any help.

"Um, no," I felt like saying (but didn't). "Actually, I could have used your help a couple of weeks ago when I was wandering around looking for water filters for a half hour (which is how I knew that K-Mart even sold paint). But now -- no, I do not need your help." No I didn't say this out loud.

Instead I lifted the can and said, "Well, really I'm just looking for some white paint."

"Oh," he answered. "Are you sure you got the right kind? What are you painting?"

"Just my room. It's small."

"Mmm hmmm. OK. So, are you sure you want 'flat?' I mean, do you care what it looks like?"

Avoiding the obvious answer ("If I cared what it looked like would I be buying my paint at K-Mart?"), I smiled politely and said, "Not really."

"OK then, this will be fine."

"I know!" I wanted to yell, "Now go help some poor loser find the water filters!"

But I just nodded, muttered, "Great. Thanks," and got out.