Tonight I rolled over to the supermarket (where they know me by name) to get some junk food. I had been craving something bad for me all day. Christie brought me a quarter pounder with cheese and fries, but it didn’t quite cut it. So I locked the bike to the bench out front because they’re too cheap to put in a bike rack, fiddled with my lock, gloves……..see yesterday’s post, and wandered inside and over to the potato chip aisle. Chips and French onion dip in hand, I stopped by the impulse coolers to get an overpriced Pepsi and then made my fat, wobbly way to the register.
The girl working tonight likes to talk. About anything. To anyone. If you make eye-contact with her, she’s talking to you. The poor lady in front of me got to hear about staying up all night to watch B-grade chick flicks. I said a prayer and shuffled up to the pin pad to swipe my card, all the while keeping my eyes low and my mouth shut. Dropping the receipt into the bag, I muttered “have a good night” and turned to leave. Fatal mistake.
“I found this stapler that can staple 50 sheets of paper at one time.”
WTF? “That’s cool. See ya.”
“It takes these special staples, see?”
I’m rather polite in person, I have a hard time telling someone to shut up, and I’d still be standing there were it not for the next idiot to lay down a box of Twinkies and some Gatorade. I wonder if he’s still there.
The dip is gone. I’m feeling bloated. And there’s no salsa in the fridge. Guess I’ll finish off the chips later.
Mileage for the 11th: 4
Mileage for the 10th: 5.3
Total miles that haven’t killed me: 52.4
Miles left that could kill me: 4947.6