My existence is so uneventful that even going out to get groceries is a big deal. I refuse to partake in this crusade more often than once a week, and even this with utmost disgust and only prompted by the threat of imminent starvation. Getting groceries is my weekly weight lifting workout. I will willingly suffer dragging a ten-kilo bag of shopping if it means I don’t have to leave the flat for the rest of the week. So, I engage my nonexistent abs, take deep and regular breaths, swing the bag over the shoulder and down the hill from Tesco I roll.
I take a great delight in my mad tetris skills. I don’t think there are many people in the world who could compete with my talent of bagging a week’s worth of items in a single bag, making sure that nothing gets squashed and that the side of the bag which will rest against my own side is perfectly flat and smooth, with no sharp edges poking my ribs. Bagging tetris-style is an art of which I’m a mistress. On a side note, no need to point out that there is such a thing as home delivery, it’s not available in my area. Also, a person gotta go out once in a while to confirm that the world still exists.