Ubuntu: No Cashier is Safe

My teen ate half of the jalapeños reserved for the dish my husband was making for dinner. He grabbed a jalapeño, dipped it in sauce, scarfed it down. When we made this discovery, I offered to run to the store. I didn’t mind. Getting out with whatever outfit I’ve put together that day motivates me to run more errands. I had another errand nearby, too.

Whenever my teen goes to a store with me, he already says, “no cashier is safe”—from conversation with me, that is. He’ll complain about how ~sad~ it is that they can’t complete a “normal transaction.” I reassure him that their day’s work is often monotonous; everyone appreciates friendly conversation and my hilarious jokes. He’s sick of me now, but I hope he’ll follow my lead one of these days.

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