Okay, Labor Day weekend and my children were due home from vacation with their father so it was time for me to survey the refrigerator. Yup, I saw that lone bottle of ketchup was still there. There really are about 100 ways to use ketchup as a staple, but I think the kids will probably react badly.

So, off to Wal-Mart where the traffic was endless. It seemed everyone was leaving today instead of tomorrow. This could be bad in the store, but I guessed it was too late to change my plans. I was already there and the kids were on the way. Well, just how bad can the store be? After all, it's not Christmas yet. I put on make up just in case I saw anyone I knew, grabbed a shopping cart and headed in. I scooted throughout the aisles like a pro, tossing in towels and shampoo from the clearance bins.

With all of my treasures in the basket I took a gamble on some ice cream. The store didn't seem too full so I chanced it. I hurried to the front of the store and scanned for the register with the fewest people. It had to be a mistake. I saw only two, no three, register lights on. What manager would only put three cashiers on, on a holiday weekend before school starts?

This looked like it would take a while so I grabbed some magazines to read. The woman in front of me had two baskets and I went for a bag of cookies just in case I was to be there forever.

Then I got hit from behind with a toy. I think that the culprit belonged to the woman with the two baskets. Suddenly, about 30 more kids appeared, none of them over seven.

"Someone to aisle 12 with a price check."

I closed my eyes. Oh please don't let that one be mine.

"Tag lady, your it," I heard as I got tapped behind the knee again.

Great, the children were playing tag around the three shopping carts? Why wasn't it bothering their mother? I looked up at her. Well, I know never to mess with a stressed woman with a hundred children on an endless line at Wal-Mart, especially if she outweighs me. She did.

The kids were now eating my cookies. Okay, I didn't need the calories. I took a step back. Why isn't this woman watching her children?

I stretched my neck and tried to look as though I was reading the Enquirer on the rack and I saw the problem. She was talking on her cell phone. What could be so important in the middle of the line at Wal-Mart?

"We still need the meat boy in aisle 12 please... NOW." She perked up and I guessed it was her better half in aisle 12.

At least they hadn't lost communication with each other. I couldn't watch anymore so I looked to the cart behind me.

There was a really big guy with his nose in a bag of hazelnut coffee. He looked content and was not bothered by the fight on the loud speaker or the cookie-stealing tag runners.

"Hi," he said. "I drove two hours for this coffee."

I love coffee too but this stuff must be really great. He looked so relaxed, but I couldn't get out of line to get some. It had been 45 minutes and the line hadn't moved.

The woman in front of me hung up her cell phone. "I told you kids no cookies! Where did you get them?"

Quickly I turned around again. The big builder still had his nose in his coffee bag. That's it, I had to take a whiff of that coffee. If those kids pointed to me I was grabbing the coffee and running.

None of the little darlings pointed to me, so I guessed I was off the hook. The mother tossed the empty bags under the counter. I looked up just in case the hidden security camera was pointing in this direction; after all, they did snag the cookies from my cart.

The builder saw my eye tearing and offered me one of his aspirins. I thanked him and give him one of my diet cokes.

"Fight! Fight!" cried one of the tag players.

Over in aisle 10 were a woman in a business suit and her spouse in cut-off shorts. "What you need is a maid and a servant," she screamed at him. "I worked 100 hours this weekend; now I have to stand on this stinking line!"

"Maybe you should get a mistress while you're at it?"

The builder smiled at me. "He's too calm," he said.

"Guess he already has the mistress," I responded.

Finally the line moved. I gave the cashier my stuff. The ice cream had melted so I let her keep it. She looked a little confused. "I really hate holiday weekends," she said.

Wait until they build that new amphitheater at Woodstock, I responded.

"Huh, aunt who?"

I realized there was no point. The builder held up his diet Coke and agreed with me.

"Oh, I meant did you see Aunt Bea on "Andy of Mayberry? You know, on TV."

"Yes," she answered, "I wish I had an aunt like that."

"Me too," I said; and I ran really fast back to my car.