Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up to pee. When I got up, that old familiar electric pain shot up my right flank . . . and here I am . . . hobbling about in a medication induced stupor this morning.
Except that . . . I was going back to the gym this morning. Nearly 10 days of vacation, no food diary, not a lick of tracking, and I'm two pounds lighter. Go me. But the gym is not on my radar this morning. I hurt.
And I was going to the grocery store. I'm busy keeping my spine in stiff alignment. No bending. Squatting only. No lifting heavy things. Groceries are hell with this kind of back pain. I could have used a 10 pound bag of sugar. Five will have to do. No dog food for the four-legged friends today. It will have to wait. I can't lift it. Not onto the bottom of the cart, and certainly not from the cart to the back of my truckster. Damn.
I'm off track.
Back to what hacks me off. Okay, I realize this might be trivial. I may be a pain in the ass right now, but it's me. It's authentically me.
I came home with 26 bags from the grocery today. Twenty-flippin-six bags. Some of them were damn heavy. Because I got the worst bagger/checker in the whole world. See this one? Super light. Why? Because it has five things in it. All light things. Hmm. Why not just put ALL the bathroom stuff in this bag? See, I also have one with Dora band-aids (stocking stuffers), a card of mini-jaw clips, and two tubes of hand lotion. 'Tis the season for chapped knuckles, it is. This morning, I bought Carmex hand cream. Yes, it's new. Yes, I like it. Go get some. I also bought Blistex hand cream for Big's stocking.
I'm off topic again.
What's the cheese doing in there? Hmm?
See, when I unload my buggy, I do kind of organize it on the belt . . . boxes with boxes, meat with meat, bags with bags, cleaning stuff with cleaning stuff. And then I get these bags home, where tampons are in the same bag with pepperoni sticks, butter & lysol and I can't help but shake my head.
Crappy sackers hack me off.