Not so super market

Tonight we are doing one of our mammoth shops. You know the kind - you borrow a friend's car (because you don't have one of your own) and drive to that big scary place called a supermarket and attempt to buy enough tinned goods/dry stuffs/toilet paper to last about, oh, three months until you have to do it all over again.

And don't forget that it's the end of the week, so the Grumbles is tired and prone to playing up, and the husband gets a weird glazed look on his face when confronted with so many shelves of grocery items, and gets stuck in such a trance that he finds it impossible to answer when you start barking 'Honey! HONEY! HOW MUCH TOOTHPASTE DO WE NEED?!!"

Bets are on that Grumbles suffer some trolley-related injury at one point. I'll lose my temper, and the Galumph will drift aimlessly around like a supermarket wraith, so I can never find him from one aisle to the next. This wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that I'll be juggling a 10 kilo bag of bread flour and 6 tins of crushed tomatoes whilst looking for him. Heavy! Then we'll get to the pimply male checkout person who, inbetween wiping his nose on his sleeve and scratching himself in unmentionable places, will make comments like "Dudes, you guys have a lot of stuff." It will take all my will power not to snap "No shit, Sherlock!" and then the subtotal will be announced and we'll all (sniffly checkout boy included) cringe.

Can't wait! No better way to spend a Friday night!

Just going to get a mop now to clean up the sarcasm dripping from that last sentence. Hope you all have a merry weekend, folks!