Wednesday is my grocery shopping day. I’m one of those price checking chicks. The new ads come out Wednesday morning, so I rake over the sale prices, matching up the discounts with my necessities, then head out for the hunt.
One might think, with all the preparation, I actually enjoy this experience.
I loathe grocery shopping. The squeaky, wobbly carts, the slow, aisle blocking shoppers, moving the same item six times just to get it in your kitchen cabinet. And yet, the people I live with keep eating, so I have to go out week after week.
So, every week, I have a competition with myself to see how fast I can get in and out. I time myself from parking lot entry to parking lot exit. My goal yesterday was 1 hour. The sun was out and I had a pool lounger calling my name.
I entered the lot at 2:19. Start the clock. Short list, minimal fellow shoppers impeding my path, open and quick-moving check outs. As I started the ignition to leave the lot, my clock time read 3:05. I WIN! (Nothing, but I win, so there!)
All that stood between me and the pool was getting this stuff in the cabinets. As I quickly unloaded the goods, I chucked the package of TP at T-Dog, asking him to put it away.
3:34 Groceries are away. Here I come pool!
I rounded the hallway corner, I saw this.
Well I could have thrown it down the hallway, plus I clearly remember asking him to put it away and him answering in the affirmative. Instead of nagging, I simply stepped over the tissue, got into my suit, grabbed my towel, and walked out the door.
I’ve decided I’m starting a silent wait-and-see protest a la Ray/Deborah/and the stinky cheese suitcase. My question now is, how long will it be there before someone puts it away, because I’m not touching it.