Marianne! Stop dropping those eggs!!

All I could think of as I cleaned egg slime off of my milk and bagged oranges and tortillas was, "I am so glad this isn't poop!"
I was at Walmart, a place I have frequented less and less because I don't leave happy, buying just a few things and I was almost done...But Beau wanted to look at shorts so we stopped to check them out. Marianne was in the back of the cart, and I thought she was content drinking her milk and sitting on some gatorade bottles. Little did I know that as Beau and I were debating whether he was a size 5 or 4, she was standing up, looking for something to do, spotting the 18-count carton of eggs, pulling up the lid, pulling it up too far, watching the eggs drop, drop, drop, seeing them land on the tortillas, the oranges, crack open on the milk, send slime down to the large box of applesauce on the rack below...
It was an instant flashback to six years ago when Jacob had diarrea at Walmart, while sitting in the front of the cart, and his foamy yellow poop slimed everything in the front of the cart. I was in the check out lane, without wipes, and after cleaning up the poop that made it to the floor with some paper towels, I ran to the bathroom with the cart to cry and mourn in shame. And clean all the poop covered food so that I could later put it on the conveyor belt and pay for it. I have never been so grateful for food packaging in all my life.
So, yes, Marianne needlessly decimated almost a dozen eggs. Yes, it made a mess. Yes, the walmart people had to come clean it up and I had to borrow their paper towels, again, to insure that I wouldn't drip egg-slime all over the store.
But it wasn't poop.