store wars

I decided to take yesterday off to basically ‘veg’ and chill-out. Turns out I’m not great at either and thus cleaned our apartment, did my nails, washed my shoes, watched a DVD, read a bit of my book and by 3pm was ready to tear my hair out. I used to love my own company but I guess I got to a point where I realised that it is so much better spending my time with the people I care about and now I’m ruined for life!
I eventually decided that I had some urgent grocery needs and hopped onto a bus to ASDA. The supermarket, at that time of the day, is a whole new world compared to when we ‘9-5ers’ usually browse its aisles. I found myself demanding personal space while struggling against mothers and pensioners. The mothers, especially, appear to think that they have the right to ignore anyone who doesn’t have a kid in a trolley or that it’s alright to let their little angels run, screaming, around your ankles. The problem is that once you fall into your comfortable shopping rhythm, you end up battling the same insensitive individuals throughout the shop. I am a browser and often find grocery shopping somewhat therapeutic (unless I’m shopping with Ian!) as I drift through the various sections scanning the wares for my weekly requirements.
By the time a lady darted ahead of me in the checkout queue I was ready to scream, but instead took a moment to sympathise. They all have to deal with each other on a regular basis, whereas I get to go back to my job and most weeks I can share the grocery store with likeminded professionals who understand the torment of a long day and are courteous enough not to ride over your toes with their trolleys.