Multitude of Questions

1) What part of I'm on a TIGHT schedule is difficult to understand?
I'm supposed to leave for school tomorrow morning, which obviously requires some packing. I'm getting down to the wire here, and still have hardly made a dent in my effort to box up everything I own (It's part of my "No CD/Book/Movie left behind!" campaign). In addition to this hassle, I have all other sorts of fun things added in like dinner with Aimee and Tom at Tom's parents' house and a movie later. As I'm headed out the door my mom says to me, "Hey can you pick your littler sister up a trapper keeper on your way back home? She really NEEDS one." First of all, no one NEEDS a trapper keeper. Second of all..."on my way"? There is no place along my route from Tom's house to our house that I can just run into and pick up a trapper keeper. I kindly mention this fact to my mother, who calmly replies, "Well I meant on Randall Road." Oh Randall Road...30 minute roundtrip out of my way Randall Road. Fan-freakin-tastic. Being the obliging daughter I am, I agree to the task despite the major threat it poses to my already limited packing time. On my way over to Tom's my brother calls me. Odd...he never calls me, in fact, I'm shocked to see his name on my caller ID.
"Hey, Mom says you're school shopping."
"No I'm not. I'm wasting my precious time picking up a trapper keeper."
"Can you pick me up two 2" binders, and two packs of 5 dividers."
"Oh, you need stuff? Perfect, you can go out and grab that and Lizzie's trapper keeper, and save me a lot of time."
"Well you're already out, so why don't you do it?"
"Because it's out of my way, I'm on a tight schedule and you need the stuff not me."
"Well aren't you getting Lizzie's trapper keeper anyway?"
Idiot! Did he not just hear what I said?!
"I won't have to if you just go do it," I said through gritted teeth.
"Mom said you'd do it. Bye."
SOB!
Thank you Mom.
2) Who let the idiots loose in Target?
After dinner I head over to Target because I'm what one might call a SUCKER! When asked to do something, no matter how ridiculous I might believe the task to be (picking up binders for someone who is 17 years old and is currently sitting on his ass doing nothing might fall into this category), I always do it. It's a curse. I can't stand the idea of someone being less than pleased with me. Once inside Target I'm met with an alarming discovery...someone had let a truck load of idiots loose in the store, and they all seemed to congregate around the school supplies. Psychotic mothers grabbing up all the folders they could get their hands on, blocking aisles as though to say, everything in this aisle belongs to me until I say otherwise. Despite the psycho soccer moms, I found the aisle with the binders and slid in unharmed. I noticed a girl about my age with a dopey looking brother who reminded me a lot of my own brother. I mentally sympathized with the girl thinking yeah we drew the short stick today didn't we, but at least you dragged your sorry excuse for a relation along with you. Mine is probably kicked back eating a bowl of ice cream right now. Just as I sensed our bond of tormented older sister growing strong, she took her cart and parked it right in front of all the binders. I couldn't see a damn thing. She just left it there too. My eyes narrowed to dagger slits as I verbally abused her within the confines of my mind, and debated whether a brawl in Target would be frowned upon or not. She wasn't even looking around. She just put it there and stood reading over a list of supplies, because apparently her idiot brother could not read the list himself. I just stood by waiting because I also hold the title of PUSHOVER! and I frequently allow myself to be tortured. After these two decided on highlighters as their next objective and moved out of the aisle I stood there staring at the binders. 1", 1 and 1/2", 1 and 3/4 ", and then nothing. No 2"! Most would have given up at this point, and called it quits. But not I. Not the fearless-no none of the things in my basket are actually for me-shopper. I cut over to the other side of the store to check out the office supply section and sure enough, there were more binders. I scanned quickly and found a 2" binder. "HURRAH!" I exclaimed. I snatched it up and reached for a second one, only to realize that was the only one. GAH! I ransacked the shelves...nothing. Defeated I went to the checkout line. It's necessary for me to now explain that I can NEVER pick the best line to get into. Without fail, I will choose the line which takes longest. It's a fact that I've learned to accept over time. So much so that when I get into line with only one woman ahead of me, I'm not at all surprised that one of her items requires a price check. I wait patiently (because like I said, I'm used to this...in fact, normally I bring a book along just for these occasions) and I watch everyone in all the other lines fly right through, out the door, and on with their lives. I don't even bother to change to the next cashier because I know my fate will be the same there. People come in behind me and box me in, and I'm not even phased. And then it hits me. Oh my God I've found her. The idiot ring leader is standing in front of me in line. Yes it all makes sense. She must have been the one to unleash all of the other idiots unto the store. I start to realize that this really isn't a price check at all we are waiting for. She realized how cheap the pack of colored pencils she was buying were and sent her daughter back to the circus school supplies portion of the store to grab 10 more boxes. And the cashier (also an escaped idiot) just stands by and allows this to go on. When Princess Idiot gets back with a handful of colored pencils Queen Idiot is unsatisfied with the quantity and asks that the back of the store be checked. I turn around and ask no one in particular for a gun.
3) Are we seriously having this conversation?
I returned home defeated, tired, and irritated. I attempted to inform John that I could only pick up one binder for him, and he'd have to go out and get the second himself because I ran out of time. My words, however, fall on deaf ears as he is on the phone with is psuedogirlfriend (girl he denies dating, but calls and talks to every night for a minimum of 2 hrs). I then search out my mother and inform her of the binder situation:
"Hey mom, I was only able to get John one binder, that's all they had."
"What?!" she said angrily to me.
"I could only get one," I said attempting to remain calm.
"Where did you go?"
"Target."
"Well I told you to go to Office Max," she snapped back.
LIAR! If you'll scroll up twenty pages you'll see she just said Randall Road. This includes about 100 different possible stores. And unfortunately my mind reading skills have been on the fritz lately. My bad.
"No mom," I began the tension clearly in voice, "you didn't specify which store you wanted me to go to. Johnny can go out and pick it up," I continue, "but I have to go now."
This response seems to anger her. Apparently the idea of my 17 year old brother doing something for himself is out of the question. Yes the same brother who she informs me on a regular basis is actually much smarter than me, and has the tests scores to prove it. He just doesn't apply himself and that is why my grades are considerably better...yata yata yata...blah blah blah...I'm glad your favorite child is a slacker.
As I turn to walk away because I'm late for my movie, I say "Oh and you're welcome." To which she says, "You should've gone to Office Max!"
For all of you concerned about Lizzie's trapper keeper, yes I purchased that too, and the best damn one in the store. She said thank you...what a concept.
4) Is there a cure for this?
I got home from the movie just before midnight, and I attempted to get some packing done. That damn missing binder continued to gnaw away at me because like I said, I can't handle disappointing people. Finally I broke down and grabbed my keys and headed out to every 24 hour store I could think of until I finally came up with a 2" binder. It's sitting up stairs with a little yellow bow on it and a tag which says, "For His Highness...The Royal Sir John."