Have I ever mentioned how I don’t drive? Yes, well…
Last week while at the store, during the crazy heat wave we had, I had about forty minutes left on my own to get a few grocery items before picking up Madame from school. The term was ending, and I needed provisions for the pre-school picnic the next day, blah, blah, blah, and you know how it is when you can’t bear the idea of having to go BACK to the store for anything… what looked like a small amount in my cart turned out to be nearly impossible to carry home.
I had 3 bottles of wine, 3 litres of milk, 2 litres of ice cream, 24 popsicles, 12 fudge-cicles, 4 cans of frozen juice concentrate, plus a jar of salsa, some cheese, chips, lemons, and about ten other small items I just couldn’t seem to leave at the store. Oh, and I had my purse, too.
Because I possess Hurculean strength buried deep, deep within my biceps (it’s obvious, isn’t it?) the two massive bags of groceries didn’t seem unmanageable until roughly forty-eight paces out the door, into the punishing heat. My trap muscles started to burn, and I contemplated getting into a taxi, but then thought, that’s crazy… you’re eight blocks from home… it’ll cost, like, nine dollars and the guy will think you’re a total lose-bag… you can make it.
I was wearing these short-shorts that day, and I got a honk from some parks & rec guys in a pick up truck offering me a ride, but they weren’t my neighbourhood parks & rec dudes – these were stranger-dudes. Everyone knows getting a ride from guys like that is, um… unseemly, at best. So, I just smiled and soldiered on.
I stopped at the traffic lights and set the bag on the pavement while I waited for the light to change, but didn’t take my digits off the handles – they were gonna be permanently bent into claw-like shapes anyway, so there was no sense in trying to straighten them out, the pain of it all killing me softly. They’ll be useful for scaring the children with, I thought. (This is me looking on the bright side.)
By the time I rounded the corner onto my street, my arms were quivering, and like a distance runner nearing the finish line, I picked up the pace a little bit and forced myself not to give up. And I willed myself not to cry, either. It was hard, yo.
In the door… don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop… up the stairs… into the kitchen I finally dropped all the stuff, feeling triumphant! And, feeling like Jello!!
I took Tylenol to ease the ache in my arms and upper back for the next two days.
Never again, lord. I have to stop doing this.
Today while at the store, and feeling uncomfortably fatigued by the two bottles of wine in my purse *ahem* I started checking out wheels, and settled for this lady:
She’s charcoal black with a white and red check making up the plaid pattern. She’s kinda jaunty in a preppy sort of way… of my choices? I wasn’t coming home with a leopard pattern or the zebra print. Or the brown one. Nay, I reckon she’ll do just fine.
My aching muscles and I are thrilled to the bone. And now I can save my Hurculean strength for other worthwhile pursuits, such as shaking the children when they’re naughty. And for squeezing lemons and such for glorious drinky-drinks when it’s hot. You know – the necessary things.
Heh.
Got wheels? Tell me I’m not the only old lady one out there…
I’ll bet wide jelly butt gets plenty of ogling. (Heh.)
I got wheels like yours in pink.But covered in paint. Had to go granny wheels after I tore my rotator cuff hauling paint supplies from school to school. I have decided your legs look damn good in the shorty shorts because you walk everywhere. She who sits behind wheel of ugly van gets wide jelly butt.
I turned forty last year. I should really get a license before too much longer… I’m nervous about it too. And I want(ed) a Vespa pretty badly too, and my husband tries not to laugh directly in my space when I wish it out loud. They’re so pretty… RAWR. Maybe one day!
I’m always glad to know there are more of “us” out there than one might think! 😉
This year I turned 50. I never got my drivers’ license. It was always a case of not needing one or not having the money for the course. Ironically, my dad sold high performance cars and I would often drive one of their VWs around the lot when I was only a kid. I would always say, “technically, I can drive”, meaning I know how, but lack the license and only have practice road experience. When other women learn that I don’t drive, I receive looks and gasps as though I just told them I run an illegal gambling operation from my home! They assume something is wrong with me. Now that I am older, I do regret not having that license because now I am very nervous to learn in a formal setting. I doubt my ability to respond to idiot drivers and there are SO many idiot drivers on the road. If I had it to do over again, I would get the license. My husband thinks it’s a laugh that I dearly want a Vespa – something to get around in for very short distances and have a little independence. I am heartened to read though that there are others who don’t have their licenses also.
My mother didn’t have one either. We were raised the same way – not such a bad way to go, really, plus it’s good for the planet. (Though, I should l probably learn how…)
And I don’t carry backpacks either, yo. *fistbump*
my mom never got her license and she raised 3 children just fine. we learned to walk long distances at an early age and to take public transportation. i don’t have a car during the week and so i will teach my children the same things…and when they start school, i am NOT carrying their backpacks!
You could tote Will around inside one, in a pinch… I’m just sayin’. 😉
I would have bought plain black, had the store had one yesterday… but I kinda like this plaid one! And, I’ve decided she’s going to be called “Andrew.” (Heh.)
I think carrying the stuff is the better way to go whenever you can (plus, this way, who needs the gym?!) but this back-breaking thing I’ve been doing has got to stop. Sometimes I just add more to my list, just to have it delivered home. Oy.
Okay I love that you take it to Grove City Christine…THAT is serious shopping! I don’t have one but I love it!
Oh hell YES…I have a plain black one – identical to yours.
(I love your plaid! I want your plaid!)
It is a necessity when I go on my annual shopping jaunt to Grove City.
It’s so funny how many people ask where we got them from (all the Canadians have them)
i have wheels, the ugly wire basket ones. i want some shiny new ones like yours! i do drive but i prefer using my core strength and blood sweat and tears to get my melons home!