If it can happen...

... it will happen to me.
This is a total first-world problem. I understand there are children in Africa and all that. But I'd like to think even they would see the irony in the crap that happened this morning. And these events are merely a summary of all the other random things that happen in my daily life.

This morning, after dropping my oldest off at school, I needed to go to the party store for more supplies for Evie Knievel's 3rd celebration of her first birthday. I had some extra time after the party store and was driving past the organic market and since we needed some more milk for EK; I thought, what the heck?
I must admit, I always feel like the biggest effing hypocrite in the whole free world when I pull into the parking lot in my giant Honda Pilot. The MPG gauge regularly tells me that that best kinda mileage I can get in that sucker is 18.5. I decided to leave my designer diaper bag in the car, lest I further the "I don't belong here" image.
So in we go, EK and I. I buy some strawberries, a tiny watermelon, grapes. Then I head over to the dairy where I find glass milk jugs.
Once in the not-too-distant-past, I opened the back of the gas-chugger  to retrieve my groceries to have a gallon of milk fall out and smash onto the parking lot. I was able to salvage about 1/2 a gallon by quick thinking, not worrying what people would think about me leaving my kids in the car, and running into the house to grab a pitcher. My neighbor was having some kind of work done and the handyman happened to come out of the house and see the events unfold. He chose to inform me that because of all the craze about saving the earth, the milk jugs were being made with less plastic. This made it easier for them to break. I'm sure he was right about that, but the man presented it in such a way that implied the whole ecological aspect was BS and the milk companies were really making the jugs thinner so that poor, unsuspecting people such as myself would open the backs of their monster SUVs and mini-vans and the milk would fall and explode, thus making it necessary for them to buy more milk!
Who knows? He could be a little right about that, too.
Anyway, back in the organic market, I see the glass milk jugs and think to myself, 'Well, those aren't made of cheap, thin plastic so I'll betcha they wouldn't bust if dropped from the back of my SUV.' I'm not saying the logic behind that was solid or based on any kind of common sense. It was a flash of a thought that was there and gone so quickly that I didn't even register how faulty the logic was. I decide to buy one gallon of milk and one half gallon.
EK had her 12 month check up so I had to hustle to the register and get a move on. I planned on sticking all the perishables in a slightly broken styrofoam cooler that my husband purchased when he and I went river tubing with friends. He swore he would throw it away after using it. The damn thing has been squeaking and rattling in the back of my car for 3 weeks. I was putting off throwing it away myself because I know styrofoam is super-toxic to the environment and even though I knew it would be going to a landfill, I didn't want to be the one directly putting it there.
As the cashier - a young lady with not-so-clean hair and a cloud of patchouli floating around her - was scanning my purchases, she asks if I would like a bag for the milk. I tell her no, I have a cooler (I didn't DARE mention that it was styrofoam!) in the back of the car, which is where I will be placing everything.
"Oh, by the way," I say. "Can I bring these wonderful glass milk jugs back to be refilled?"
She informs me that I cannot, but that I can return them for a $2 refund. Sounds like a plan to me.
I put everything in the cart with EK and wheel it out. It was only one bag, so I picked up EK, put both milk jugs on top of the paper bag and carry the whole shebang out. EK on one hip and the bag of stuff on the other.
I manage to get to my car without incident. I set the bag down on the asphalt so I can buckle EK into her seat. Just as the bag hits the ground, it shifts and the gallon milk jug shatters on the parking lot and in the bag.
I'm thinking, holy fuckballs. Now everything is covered in milk. I strap EK into the car, give her a handful of pretzels, and go check out the damage.
Fabulous. Not only are there large shards of glass both in and out of the bag, but there is also milk everywhere. And this isn't skim milk, mind you; its WHOLE milk so its all nice and fatty and creamalicious. I open the trunk of the Chugger and find that the styrofoam cooler is a little worse for the wear: a big hole in the lid and the side is all busted up. But it'll do.
I begin transferring the fatty, milk-covered produce from the soggy paper bag to the broke-ass, environmentally irresponsible cooler, trying my best to clean the creamy substance from the groceries with a wet wipe. When I near the very bottom of the bag I remember: Before I made my trek across the parking lot, I stuck my wallet into the grocery bag.
My wallet was one of those plastic-covered, long, clutch-looking deals that closed tightly. I thought, because it was plastic, that it was water-proof. As I gazed into the bag and saw my cute, multi-colored plaid wallet submerged under a half inch of Vitamin D fortified cow's milk, I noted the bubbles surfacing as my wallet filled with milk and the air escaped.
I reached into the mess and rescued my wallet. Milk poured from it and I unclasped it to drain it completely.
All the contents were now covered with a nice, thick, white film.
I learned two things today. One: I shouldn't even try to pretend that I am the type of person who buys local, organic whole milk. And two: My wallet was not water - or, rather, milk- proof.