I went another mid-night shopping 'cause we run out of dog food. I run out of coke yanks ago anyway so it was time.
Herald slipped into their vast car park at around 0.30am, and I checked out my cart at around 1.30am. There was this very capable lady staff who started helping me bag, and was running around, telling customers about regulations.
Don't you hate when these people start to bag your stuff? And you can't say
'No, thanks.'
as they are somewhat physically challenged or something, and it seems very mean if you refused their service, but you are well aware that them helping is NOT speeding up any process of your check-out. I mean, I really don't know these laws on hiring and equal opportunity. I am, in fact, one who gets the blessing of the equal opportunity (I am female and am an ailien.) but I'd rather not make others/customers feel sorry with/for that fact. So, I can never tell a man with a crutch to stop bagging my stuff.
Oh, I went the sideways. Was going to say that I simply hate people bagging my stuff. I am an OCD, and I have strict order to put stuff into my basket/cart, AND to put them into bags. I want my stuff bagged in certain orders. I want the weight distributed evenly into right and left, too. The lady staff was not physically challenged or anything at all, but just was eager to help. But, hey, it's like 2am, and nobody is rushing home, mate. Leave my grocery alone!
On top of it, she started NAMING the stuff as she bagged.
"Your spring onions. Your crisps, which YOU can bag,"
turning the whole thing into OUR project.
"Your courgettes, your men's socks, your single cream..."
OK, ok, what are you doing, lady, couldn't you be a little louder???
"Um... stop itemizing my things, please...?"
I mumbled, and she looked at me as though she was V. offended.
"Um, thanks. Thank you so very much for your help."
I grabbed my bag with 10 tins of chopped tomatoes. She still looked unhappy.
Earlier that day, my bitch run away for the third time. After the last time I went to the key place and got her a name tag with contact number on. So, this time someone phoned up within 10 min. (Thank you Justin xx)
Last time and the time before, and even this time, though, I usually try to see if she will pop out from our neighbours' hedges when I call out. Now, she was supposed to be called 'Stella', as I love that name. It's my favourite name of a tasty beverage. She was named otherwise, with another name of a tasty beverage, after I considered to name her after someone, as well as a drink.
When she went missing and I went around the neighbourhood for hours shouting her name,
"Baileeeey, Bailey!!"
I was so grateful that I didn't go with our first choice of her name. I mean, I do not need looking like Stanley. I look mad enough without it, mate.
