I have done some stupid things in my life.

Some that come to mind include:

• Swimming in flood water;

• Walking the steep banks of the Smoky Hill River using a tire iron to make footholds (until I dropped the tire iron into the river thus being stuck there);

• Speeding down a road at 130 mph;

• Having a party while thinking my parents wouldn’t come home early (and if any of you kids are reading this, they do it on purpose, so beware):

• Leaving my cell phone in my pocket only to have it get washed (I have not been able to get the rice trick to work);

• Taking a 12 on the 17th hole of an important golf tournament (when a snowman would have been welcomed);

• Sitting through the movie “Moonstruck” (just goes to show that wining an Oscar doesn’t make the movie a good one);

• Flinging a dead cedar tree into a burning firepit (which was similar to the stunt of adding too much fuel to a burn barrel which almost exploded);

• Missing my 20th wedding anniversary (long before Google had a calendar).

But on Monday what I did could resemble penance for all my sins. I went shopping on Christmas Eve.

Leaving the house early Monday, naturally I forgot the shopping list.

Fortunately we now have text messages which is how my wife Kathy sent the list to me. There were just a few items, not more than five.

Top of the list was Cupcake Moscato D Asti.

Arriving at the store shortly before it opened, there was a line. I expected someone to ask me to take a number.

When the gates opened it felt like the Cabbage Patch Kids shopping debacle all over again. There was a single bottle of Moscato on the shelf at the back.

Visions of Nora Krank in the book “Skipping Christmas” racing after that last hickory honey ham darted through my mind as I quickly approached the lone bottle only to see this 80-something woman snatch it up.

“Can I buy your wine? It’s my wife’s absolute favorite. I’ll pay anything above sticker price,” I wanted to yell.

Christmas Day was saved as several more cases of Moscato were retrieved from the backroom.

Next up was a trip to the grocery store.

I should have taken the hint when I couldn’t find a place to park.

Five items! How long could it take?

Kathy was ready to file a missing persons report as I kept running into old friends who had returned to their hometown for the holidays.

I was there most of the afternoon doing what really bugs me most about shopping: people talking in the aisles while I’m trying to get whole pitted green olives.

I made it home in time for Monday Night Football.

“What! You got real whipping cream instead of canned whipping cream?”

And back to the store I went to remedy that mistake. Think I’ve learned from my mistakes? Check in NEXT Christmas Eve.

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