10) It is Sunday, I was still up at 4am, and I’m feeling lazy. I don’t want to get dressed, let alone go outside.
9) I have lessons to plan, papers to mark and emails to respond to; surely this is more important than shopping. But I guess I do need to feed the children too.
8) My bank account won’t like it. It is still 19 days until payday and I am broke, as always.
7) My daughter will want to come with me, and will want to add to my trolley. I wouldn’t mind this, if she remembered that fridge stuff must all go on the same side of the trolley, instead of milk with the biscuits. Also, see reason 8 again.
6) Shopping store music will stay in my head for hours, and I will be singing, “Hey, Hey, What’s the matter with your face, face?” all day long. Oh dear.
5) It will be 10 minutes at least until I actually think of something to cook today that my son will eat, that isn’t pizza or noodles. Or maybe longer… pizza it is.
4) My trolley will have a wonky wheel, and I will only discover this when I’ve already half loaded it and bumped into half a dozen people…
3)… who glare at me when I apologise for my clumsiness. I’m sorry, ok??
2) I will have unpacked all of my shopping onto the conveyor belt before I realise that I have forgotten to pick up the made to order pizzas from the deli counter. A quick dash across the store will be necessary. Or I could just send my daughter.
1) “Do you want any help with your packing?” asks Gita, the friendly lady behind the till.
“No thanks,” I reply, “I’ll do it.”
I get ignored though, and look up to see her putting bread into a bag (only one of my loaves) followed by chocolate biscuits, and garlic bread, and crisps and (Why???) Father’s Day socks. My daughter turns around as I make a strangled noise. My face must betray my horror at this packing disaster, and she turns to see why. “Oh. My. God…”
Suddenly I don’t like Gita very much anymore, and I know I will never use her checkout again.