Hey, by the way… I know I have not been blogging much lately.
I blame my severe mid-life crisis I am going through right now.
An extended bout of PMS.
Thing is… I’ve been thinking 24/7 about MOVING, like from where I live, and having second and third thoughts about it, and it is causing me severe amounts of angst!
OK, so I’m at the supermarket and I bought a bunch of produce.
Not the verb!
The girl, the cashier, she’s ringing it through, and she grabs my potatoes [so to say!]… and these three baking potatoes are on the scale thing, and her HAND IS RESTING ON THEM!
She’s got her hand on my potatoes!
I said nothing.
But the bananas were next.
Again, she’s got her hand on my damn bananas…. so here’s me [remember now, I’ve been a bit of a broom-whacked wasp-nest lately]…. I say to her, “Umm, I’d rather not pay for the weight of your hand!”
The look she gave me!
Maybe she too is having a hard time coming to terms with decisions involving moving?
Her look was quite withering.
Admittmedly, I could have had much more tact in this situation.
I suppose I could have said something much more politically correct, like for instance, “Hmm… is that scale there calibrated to automatically deduct the weight of your * * * * ing arm?”