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Shopping, the Curmudgeon way

Please Note: This is an old post before the virus and my other health issues. I no longer make this trip.

I think we’ve all had the experience of re-visiting our grade school as adults and finding those vast halls have become miniature, with tiny desks and tiny lockers in tiny rooms. Logically, we accept that the building has remained the same size, and our perception must have changed because we got BIGGER.

So, it comes as a surprise now that – as part of our shopping experience- places we’ve frequented for years are starting to look so much bigger. Okay, we all shrink a bit over the years, but not enough to account for a reverse effect of the child-to-adult growth spurt. Again applying logic, our perception must have changed because we got OLDER.

It’s not only the sheer distance from the front doors of the supermarket or department store to where we need to go that’s overwhelming, but it’s also the time it takes to get there. I need a shopping cart for stability, and on lucky days some slob has left theirs right where they’d parked so I can grab that instead of trudging precariously the distance from even a handicapped space to where carts are kept. If Gwynne, my wife goes on ahead of me, she has a good portion of the things on her list piled in her arms, ready to be dumped in my cart when I finally get in the store.

Pride prevents the use of those motorized carts offered by some stores. After all, I’m not really all that “physically challenged” and don’t want to appear a wimp. Plus, the speed on those machines is fixed so low, probably in hopes of preventing bodily injury or property damage, that even I can likely walk that fast.

Gwynne always tries to drag me along on shopping trips under the theory that it’s good for me to get out of the house. If I manage to overcome the dread (having considered the “issues” previously mentioned) it generally works out, but eats up most of the day and invariably necessitates a nap.

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