I really like nice people. And sometimes I am not one.

I like to think those of you who have known me for years would say I've gotten nicer. Well, I'd like to think you found me kind and generous all along, but...anyhow, no need to leave a comment praising me for improvement. And if you think I'm an a-hole, well, what do you want me to do about it?

Anyhow, I do think that niceness begets niceness, so I try. The other day, I was thrilled to score a parking spot right in the very front of Target. I should have suspected some tragic fault with the empty space - a nearly invisible motorcycle, a sinkhole, maybe a chemical spill - because why else would it be free on a crowded day? I started to pull into the space when, lo and freaking behold, I noticed some a-hole had left a cart there. Never mind the grassy median right beside the space and don't consider for a moment the cart corral* two spots away from your fancy, front row space. Oh. No. You, phantom shopper, should not have to inconvenience yourself. After all, you probably drove around the lot waiting for just such a space, which was rightfully yours as a reward for your perseverance. I bet you like to kick old ladies, don't you?

Wanton Cart Abandoners are my second least favorite parkers; I really dislike the smug self-entitlement of drivers who park their cars across two spaces, so no one will scratch their precious truck. Anyhow, I decided to pull into the space anyway and take the cart inside (who's smug now?) As I was pulling in, a woman in the next car got out and held up her hand to stop me. Honestly? She looked a little bit mad and I thought she was going to tell me she was holding the spot for someone. I toyed with causing a scene. I've been part of a scene in the Target parking lot before. More than one, actually. I opted for a sigh and started to back out in search of another spot. But, no, I was wrong. Her apparent anger was due to a glare from the sun or righteous indignation towards the Wanton Cart Abandoner. She moved the cart and smiled at me. I felt happy. We even exchanged smug laughs over the hated WCAs. Thank you, nice lady, you made my day.

A few days later, I was walking the boys home from school. On the way home, we passed a Publix grocery store cart someone had abandonned in the nearby neighborhood. Publix was only a hair out of our way, so I asked O to push it back to the store, which he did, even though he is not even a boy scout**. As we approached Publix, I heard a huge crash and several loud pops. Just behind us, right in the intersection where we would have been had we not returned the cart, two cars had collided. One skidded through the intersection and the other was tossed onto the sidewalk. I really don't think there's any way one or more of us wouldn't have been hurt or even killed. Do you ever think about moments like that and get a huge lump in your throat because you aren't sure you deserve it? I do. If I think too hard about my children dying, I want to go ahead and die myself, so I won't have to worry about it anymore.

And the moral of this story is: Always return an abandonned cart. Spread the love, y'all!

Namasté, y'all!

P.S. Apropos of nothing, I have a new rule to live by: In a group conversation, never speak for more than thirty seconds at a time. Be quiet and wait until it's your turn again. Longer Than 30 Seconds = Boring. I'm working on it.

* What are those things called anyway?

** And won't be. We just can't get our heads around the fact that they discriminate against homosexuals. We have gay friends who are parents, at least as good of parents as we are. Please explain to me why they can't lead a boy scout troop. Never mind, don't. Frankly, the kids would be way worse off with me. What with the drinking and cussing. By the way, I don't think you're evil for letting your kid be a boy scout. Let's not talk about it anymore, m'kay?