Friday, 21 March 2014

Shopping Jenga

Oh yes, we've all done it haven't we? It's the game of shopping Jenga. Some weeks it's worse than others, but in general it happens on a weekly basis for me.

It was particularly bad for me this week. I blame it all on environmental factors and the economy. It has nothing at all to do with my lack of budget keeping or my eagle eye for a bargain or three.

So, off I go, shopping list in hand, determined that I will stick to my short list and take less than an hour, because, naturally, I had things to do that day.

The first mistake I made was to leave the house two hours later than I should have.

The second mistake I made was to park close to the store. Even though there was a couple of empty spaces either side of my car- this should never, ever be taken lightly.

The third mistake I made was to select a 'weekender trolley'- this was the biggest mistake. But I was only needing ten things....

So into the bustling supermarket I went, jauntily. Up and down the first couple of aisles, rather swiftly. I didn't need duvet covers and, no, I didn't need a bathroom cabinet. I was on a roll. Still with empty trolley I hit aisle three. That's when it started to go wrong.

'Spring Cleaning Event' 

It sprung out at me like a uncoiling wire. I tried really hard to divert my eyes, but...oh, hang on, I use that spray, it's half price...may as well get it while it's half price. In the trolley it went. And another one. I got stuck between two elderly ladies debating which floor cleaner had the nicer smell, and as she squeezed the bottle, the contents spilled, splashing the floor with gusto, sending a beautiful 'ocean breeze' smell my way. I should grab a bottle of that too....it's only £1.

As I shuffled past the carnage which was ensuing over the spilled blue potion, I noticed the most amazing mop.
Well it was! It would dry in seconds, never leaving that awful smell lingering. It even helped dry your floor after you'd washed it! Go figure! As I had already bought the lovely 'sea salt' floor cleaner -or whatever it was called, I decided to treat my floors and buy this amazing mop, and of course the bucket to go.

Ramming the mop into place between my cleaning fluids I scuttled further down the aisle, apologising to those I almost rendered unconscious with the handle of my magic mop. By the time I left the aisle, I had further added three packs of anti bacterial wipes, scented tissues (??!), two pack of rubber gloves and three bottles of bleach.

I hadn't even started my shopping list yet.

I was doomed. I was boiling and proceeded to unzip my coat before I almost passed out! My coat has a removable belt. This will become relevant as I bore you with my journey!

So, I forced myself away from the aisle in search of my list items. 

Balancing my weekly shopping on my mountain of cleaning products, I dropped, bumped and apologised my way through the store, pulling the belt of my coat in an aim to keep it attached to the coat. 

I finally made it to the checkout. Red faced, looking like I'd spent two hours in the gym.

I joined the queue and a few minutes later realised there was two other people behind me. What a busy store!

I lowered my arm to secure my coat belt once again and it was....missing!

I sighed in despair as I frantically patted my coat down. No. No belt.

I then had to haul my trolley out of the line and proceed to trawl the store aisles at turbo speed looking for the belt.

After an abundance of sorrys and apologies, I noticed, peeping from under a stack of beans...there lay my belt. I grabbed it and stumbled back to the checkout. Now, I hadn't mentioned that my trolley was also one that went left...no matter how hard you steered it right....it went left. I picked up some speed as I travelled down an empty aisle, but unfortunately, my trolley decided to angle left...heading into a stack of magic eraser sponges which were promising to eradicate any horrendous mark from any surface whatsoever. I dug my heels right into the floor and leaned back to try to stop the trolley. It slowed right down, only to knock the display slightly, sending two magic sponges into my trolley. I shrugged and thought they may be useful after all, and wondering if it removed bolognese sauce from childrens cheeks.

Finally finding a checkout that was empty, I unloaded my burgeoning trolley. Having finished, I tottered past the most unhappy cashier I have ever met who was rhythmically throwing my goodies into a pile on top of the carrier bags. I then packed frantically as the queue behind lengthened at a rate of knots. She finished scanning my items through and sighed as half of my trolley still lay at the bottom of the conveyor belt. Everyone watching me, arms folded. 

I couldn't wait to escape the place!

My moment of glory came. I finally paid my bill and pushed my stupidly packed trolley in the direction of the exit. Now, I thought I was home and dry. How wrong I could be!

Dodging the people coming in through the exit, balancing my awkwardly shaped bags on the tiny trolley, I left the store and was whacked full blast by a gale force wind.

The receipt blew into orbit, the bread fell out of the bag, and yes, I saw my coat belt blow across the car park. Of course my first thought was to leave the bread and dash, a la supermarket sweep (those readers from the UK may remember this show) through the busy traffic to grab my coat belt. I managed.

I sighed, took a grip of myself once again before returning to my forlorn loaf, abandoned curb side.

I grappled once again with my 'weekender' and pushed and pulled my haul in the direction of my car. Which, as I remind you, was parked close to the entrance. The cars squeezing passed me, children, excitably out of school darting left and right, I spotted my car.

And there it was. Wedged tightly between two other cars, both of which had been reversed into their space. You know what that means. My primal scream was threatening to escape from my voice box. 

Yes, I do know I have boot space. But I don't. I carry 4 pushchairs in my boot. Why?
A doubler incase I am alone with two littlies, a recliner for the littlest, a more robust one for the second born and larger one for our eldest. If I don't have them, I would need one.

So, boot was out of the question. And neither back passenger door would open due to the wing mirror of each neighbouring car restricting access.

Oh boy.

It was at this point that I began to throw my groceries into the car with the skill of a gold medal javelin thrower, with one leg hooked around the wheel of the trolley (no, the brakes didn't work either).

By the time I got into the car, wiped my brow and looked into the mirror to be greeted with a view of a wild woman- hair twisted beyond untwisting, I was absolutely exhausted. But, boy was I looking forward to my lunch. I glanced at the time and nearly cried. 

Not Ime for lunch, our appointment was in half an hour! 

It's just 'one of those days!'


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