What I forgot to write about last Tuesday

I woke up this morning, set my pan on the stove and started up the toaster, only to realise that we were out of bread. Almost completely out of bread (and eggs and everything else). We just had the last slice (that nobody likes eating) left. Although, by nobody, I don't mean The Husband. That man will eat anything. Snails, snakes, monkeys, pigeons, puppies, anything. So I made eggs for him and served them with that last piece of bread and started making a grocery list for the things we need to get today. That reminded me of the last time we went grocery shopping when we were forced to carry around a giant cardboard box in our cart the way people sometimes carry their kids around in stores. Except this was in no way like that. The wound is still fresh in my mind.

Being the smart people that we are, we decided to order a bunch of things online and set up the delivery address as The Husband's office because "what if no one's home when all the goodies arrive?". And by a bunch, I mean a whole giant cardboard box full of stuff that we probably don't even need. For example, when we somehow managed to get it home and opened it up, we even discovered a Monopoly game set which neither of us even remembered ordering in the first place. I'm 85% sure that The Husband is just pretending to not remember. Again, while I was typing that last sentence, only the whites of my eyes were visible. The package arrived last Monday which was also the day on which we just HAD to go grocery shopping because the whole fridge was empty (again) because we like to wait till the last possible second before stocking our fridge. What's more, our inflated egos did not allow us to a) drop off the box at home before going to the store and b) call a cab. We were strong, independent women that day, who didn't need cabs or help carrying bags of groceries AND a giant cardboard box. In our defence, who even calls a cab when you only need to walk for 5 minutes?

Hence, we ended up being quite the spectacle at our grocery store last Monday, what with all the proper big carts being unavailable right when we walked in, and with us dragging one of those small-ish carts with wheels that make the most annoying sound in the world when dragged across coarse mosaic floors. It was great. The giant cardboard box fit perfectly into one of those, in such a way that it was impossible to put even a single bar of chocolate into that cart. So one of us had to drag that cart along, with nothing but our giant cardboard box in it. It is under these circumstances that being small in size comes in handy. Quicker reflexes and speed, you see. Like a pro, I entrusted The Husband with the task of dragging the embarrassing cart along. But in the end, the stronger person always wins. The Husband caught up with me in seconds and punched me in the face with one fist, grabbed my cart with the other, and walked away after kicking me in the gut. I was in so much pain that I had to crawl across the floor for the rest of the evening. Fine, he didn't do all of those things but he did use a little bit of force to snatch my cart from my hands while I even half-squatted on the floor trying to hold on to it (and to my very last shred of dignity) before giving in to his strength. He left the embarrassing one near me before walking away.

I don't know if this happened (in my mind it did) but I felt as though everybody was staring at me and my embarrassing cart. Especially with all the noise it was making. The lady at the till even looked at me expectantly after seeing my extra shopping cart while I tried to meekly hide my face in my armpit. And once we were done, we carried the box along with three bags full of groceries all the way home. Are we proud of ourselves? HELL YEAH! Do I want to go back in there today? ... FML.

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