DD and I went grocery shopping last night. We split up partway through so that we could pick up some of the items on the list faster – which usually means that while DD goes hunting for gluten-free, low sugar cookies, I head over to the freezer section and load up on ice cream.
I got sidetracked in the bakery department. I suddenly craved bagels and English muffins. The English muffins were on the lowest shelves and the bagels were on the highest ones. To start with, I bent down to get a good look at the various types of English muffins.
There was a misplaced pack of bagels down there. Like the good citizen that I am, I searched for its proper slot up in bagel-land, then replaced it there. I am all about neatness and organization, you see.
Then I bent back down to continue examining the English muffins. I couldn’t decide between cinnamon, raisin, cinnamon-raisin, cheese, whole wheat – this was gonna take some time!
Just then, DD came back, fresh from her foray into other supermarket aisles. I was still crouched down beside the English muffins, but I heard her footsteps. I went to look up when …
Something came crashing down on my head! Something soft, fortunately. But it was very sudden and startled the hell out of me.
Before I actually looked at DD, I said in an irritated manner, “What did you do that for?!”
She didn’t answer me. She was laughing too damn hard. She pointed at the bag of bagels that had hit me in the head, now laying forlornly on the floor beside me. It was the very same bag that I had found down with the English muffins and that I myself had put back in its correct place with its brethren.
And apparently it didn’t want to be back up there, preferring instead to check out life below with the English muffins. This was an adventurous, progressive pack of bagels, it would seem. I was also pretty sure that, adventurous or not, there was no way that bag of bagels would want to go home with me after that rather pointed expression of its displeasure.
I bought the cinnamon English muffins instead.