I don’t know about you, but I would rather wrestle rabid alligators than deal with the weekly trip to the grocery store. Nothing against the notion of shopping itself, but it’s a jungle out there, or rather in there.
For me, it usually starts as soon as I reach the shopping carts. Guaranteed, the first one I go for is going to be super-glued to the one in front of it. You’d think I’d learn and move on. But no, I stand there tugging and pulling until people stare; then I move on to a different one. The next one is either soaking wet, has a suspicious-looking tissue in it, or is one of those special carts that not only has a squeaky wheel, but also pulls to the left. The latter is what I usually end up with.
So I’ll start making my way down the aisles–my cart…
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