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The Dreaded Shaky Wheel

It's really hard to follow up with the Fetish Fair (thanks, Kaenar), so I'm going in a completely different direction. Not a fetish, but more like torture.

Grocery Shopping.

It's the chore I hate the most. It's not sexy. There are no leather wielding mistresses or Leather Men in chaps. Depressing, I know. I battle various people with white hair, small, crying children, and the inability to move a cart from the &^%^$#@!! middle of the aisle. Added to this horror is the fact that the commissary (that's military talk for grocery store) has been undergoing renovations for months. The aisles are more narrow, the ketchup is now where the canned fruit is, and I'm hopelessly lost everytime I go inside.

What the heck does any of this have to do with writing, you might ask? Not a blessed thing. Except it takes up valuable time I'd rather spend writing, reading, or heck, pulling out my toenails one by one.

If you can't tell, I really hate grocery shopping. So wish me luck as I'm off. I SO wish I had a better picture than this, but hey, it's shopping.



Jenna Byrnes said...

LMAO Marie. I think it's hard to follow Kaenar, too, but this post was cute.

You know, we have a brand spanking new grocery store in our town and it's huge and clean and the aisles are wide- and it has a bakery and chinese food and italian food- oh my, I need to go grocery shopping!



Marie Harte said...

:) Shop at your own peril, Jenna.