Next Thing You Know, I'll Be Wearing a Plastic Rain Bonnet

I had a busy weekend here, filled with exciting things like cleaning the bathroom! and doing laundry! and itemizing exactly what clothing I will drop off at Goodwill so I can accurately deduct its fair market value on next year's tax return! (Apparently I have previously been assigning "garage sale value" to my donations, as I think a shopping bag full of clothes is worth about $2 and Turbo Tax thinks that one shirt is worth more than $2. I decided I like Turbo Tax's math better, so I'm actually documenting this year's closet-cleaning endeavors, lest the IRS think I'm trying to cheat them out of $100 worth of taxable income.)

But the most exciting moment of the weekend -- more exciting than discovering that my mop, which I haven't used in weeks because the mop head is tearing into pieces, thus rendering it rather ineffective as a cleaning tool, doesn't have a replaceable mop head, so the replacement mop head I bought is utterly useless until I buy a new mop, and why is it that I've purchased at least one new mop for every rental property I have lived in since the dawn of time? Am I really that hard on my mops? Is it asking too much to expect a mop to come with a replaceable mop head? And for the replacement mop head to be easily procured at one's local discount retailer a few months later? Do mop heads go out of fashion that quickly??? -- was when I put an end to the make-out session taking place in the middle of Banana Republic.

The two lovebirds in question were approximately 16 and did not at all appear to be your typical Banana Republic shopper. That is to say, neither of them was a married woman in her early 30s, accompanied by children under the age of six. (Admittedly, many of these women are probably not yet 30, but in my little world no one under the age of 30 has children; therefore, I get to make these women older than they are. I'm sure they love me for it.) Romeo and Juliet apparently thought they were in the back of a very dark movie theatre, not standing in the middle of a well-lit store next to a table full of v-neck sweaters on sale for $24.99. Ahem. Customers were visibly distracted by this not-at-all-discreet public display of affection, and I do believe that if someone had been forward enough to yell "Get a room!" in their general direction, several customers would have applauded.

As Romeo and Juliet had not yet noticed the incredulous stares from customers and BR staff alike, and thus were not shamed into putting an end to their grope-fest, SOMEONE had to act. (These two had parts touching that I didn't even know existed until um, well, certainly not during high school, that's for sure.) By virtue of the fact that I was the closest and, let's face it, most appalled staff member, that someone was me.

I put on my best Mom Voice (I don't mean "the voice I will use as a mother," I mean, I channeled MY MOTHER'S calm, patient, I work with ten-year olds all day, I'm not yelling at you so much as explaining why your actions are inappropriate at this given moment and maybe we could find some other way to express our love for one another, hmm? voice) and reminded them that they were in a public place, with, you know, small children around, and that this really wasn't appropriate. Perhaps you should go next door, to Forever 21? (All right, so I didn't say that last part.)

Much to my surprise, they looked mildly embarrassed. And didn't give me any crap about the interruption or what's the big deal or why you up in my face, bitch? (Oh yes, you should come to the mall. It's FUN. It's also a weekly reminder that my children will not be allowed to leave the house before they are 35, unless it's to go to church or the library. School? Um, no. We’ll have someone brought in for that.)

My disgust at this kind of behavior is nothing new. But calling strangers out on it and being taken seriously? That is novel. Which led me to wonder...When, exactly, did I become an old lady??? (Answer: 1978. Shut up.)