Race a cart stuffed with a screaming toddler and overflowing foodstuffs alongside a five-year-old with a death wish because he WON'T STOP RUNNING IN FRONT OF THE CARS to a minivan that looks exactly like your minivan EXACTLY LIKE IT, and repeatedly cram your key in the lock because the remote unlocker thingy isn't working and it's raining and the kids! They're still screaming! Then you find yourself yelling obscenities in your head because your van, YOU MUST'VE BROKE IT, and at that moment a middle-aged blond woman and her two daughters come strolling up to your van and are all "Um, what are you doing with OUR van?" And you're all, "No, I think this is my van," and then you look down and notice the "I miss my ex-husband, but my aim is improving" bumper sticker and realize that this isn't your van and that you're in Jefferson County. And then you want to die.
I've been without electric from 3p.m. yesterday to noon today. Ewan slept with his butt on my head. I am tired.