I've removed any identifying material from this, but it's too good not to share.

It was a teeny-weeny bit unnerving standing in the super long return line at SAMS this morning. The Thanksgiving spirit has come and gone and we have moved into the "Ho-Ho-Who the hell is holding up the works?" season. 

Name redacted has already outgrown the snuggler size Pampers I bought as a love present, so there I stood, box of 210 diapers in hand. In front of me were customers returning droopy, unwatered Poinsettias, half-eaten cartons of brown spring mix, and a gigantic flat screen TV. The guy behind me, in the bright orange "GO GATORS BEAT NOLES" t-shirt stared forward, three unopened packages of halogen light bulbs in his cart. His facial expressions were unremarkable, other than the occasional lips-pursed glance at me and my box of Pampers. I knew what he was thinking, why someone with bifocals and crinkly skin on the top of her hands would have baby diapers...instead of the adult kind. 

Trying to be polite and observant of his multiple sighs, I suggested if he was in a hurry he could go in front of me. He wasn't in a hurry. He had other shopping to do. He thanked me and a slight smile crossed his face. This seemed like the place in the script where I break the chill with an obvious..."How 'bout those Gators yesterday?!"