small joys at the supermarket and my terrible habit
Nothing beats the feeling of picking a good trolley at the supermarket. The one close to us only has the small ones: plastic baskets on four wheels with a long handle of the same material.
Today's pick was smooth. The wheels rolled easily, it felt brand new. As someone who delights in holding objects with the least possible amount of fingers, the handling was great. It rolled and swerved flawlessly with just two fingers holding on. The third finger rests on top just for stability.
I specifically use the term handling as a way to pivot into the confession of my terrible supermarket etiquette.1
Often I forget that people can hear me. The scenarios in my mind are full of sound and voices and these merge into the real world without my notice. As I twist and turn in the aisles I just cannot help but make drifting noises. I am sure people can hear me, and as a regular they must recognise me.
But I can't stop doing it, I enjoy it a lot and makes the supermarket run fun. The rush of taking a short one (double caution)2 around an old lady who's trying to pick canned tuna is adrenaline inducing.
You pick your vehicle at the entrance. Blast past the snacks and take away food. Then its left long three 20 into right long six 50, left sharp two CARE into left medium three and then right hook turn CAUTION into the dairy section... and I just realised I forgot the shopping list home again.
Plus, I am meant to be a grown up individual.↩