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I knew Walmart was cooked the second I got stuck behind somebody checking out in full bedtime attire like the store was her personal kitchen at 7 AM. Not leggings. Not sweats. Actual cartoon duck pajama pants with tangled “I fought the ceiling fan in my sleep” hair while her kid sat there looking equally exhausted with snack crumbs on his shirt. And before anybody starts crying about “mind your business,” I WAS trying to mind my business until they cut in front of me at self checkout moving like the entire line didn’t exist. What really got me is how comfortable people have become treating public spaces like extensions of their house. No effort, no awareness, just rolling into Walmart looking like the family emergency was surviving the couch cushions. Meanwhile she’s casually scanning groceries like this is perfectly normal and I’m standing there wondering if basic self-respect officially died during the pandemic. And yes, I know somebody’s gonna say “she’s probably a tired mom.” Cool. Being tired doesn’t magically force you into duck pajamas at Walmart. Everybody’s exhausted. Most people still manage to throw on actual pants before entering society. The kid copying it too made it worse because now we’re raising a whole generation that thinks looking halfway conscious counts as getting ready.