Imagine a Venn diagram. This Venn diagram is my life. On the left-hand side we have “days I forget to bring an umbrella.” On the right we have “days it rains.” In the middle, intersecting section is “days I have to go grocery shopping.”
This is a fact.
This has happened the past 27 times I have gone grocery shopping. Or at least the last three. Two times ago, I looked like I had just taken a shower or dived in a pool by the time I got home. Or more accurately, Cat at the end of Breakfast at Tiffany’s and so NOT the ever-glamorous Audrey Hepburn.
The most recent time, I waited about three minutes inside Fairway, and then just trudged home in the downpour, accepting my umbrella-less, grocery-full fate.
I also sometimes throw in a circle called “days I am wearing sandals” into the mix. And then when I step in a puddle of dog urine and god knows what else, I’m all like *cue Gossip Girl gif*:
The good thing about grocery shopping in a city is that it is always a good workout. I mean, I think carrying 10+ pounds of food home 3/4 of a mile and then up three flights of stairs counts for something. It counts for an extra something if it is 5 degrees outside and snowing (been there, done that), and of course, if it is 90 degrees and pouring.
These are the stories I am going to tell my grandchildren. “Listen here, youngsters, back in the day, I didn’t have a car to tow my groceries home. No, sir. I had to carry them. Up a hill. Both. Ways.”
My grandchildren are going to think I was a pioneer on the Oregon Trail.