The G-word

I hate it.
Once a month (barring the odd incidental), dear heavens I hate it.
It makes me want to scream “not a fuck” and hall tail the other way.
But alas, the responsible mother and wife in me just can’t avoid it. 
Grocery shopping.
I know I am not the only one, but all of you present yourselves pretty well in that I just can’t tell. Well played.

I cannot stand the trolleys having to be pushed down isle after isle (even with a list. EVEN WITH A LIST!) and packing in what is needed (and sometimes what is not) while navigating other trolley pushers. DO NOT get me started on baskets.

I cannot stand those who happen to run into a friend in the middle of the isle and then proceed to block the isle with their trolleys (if this is you, please, please for the love of all that is good and pure suggest moving to a more open location to have your discussions). Yet I remain calm (after counting to a bajillion) and politely say “excuse me” as I venture forth towards the next painful isle.
I look at my list and I look at the shelf and I wish that I was done already. 

And when stores move their shit around? PLEASE put a note to indicate as such. Why make us hunt for the damn item? Just a short note that is has moved from this isle to that would be great thanks.
And then this..


And this…


And bloody this….


Need I say more??

Posted on October 12, 2015, in I got stuff on my mind! and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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