July 10, 2002~~10:45 p.m.
Wheel on the Cart Keeps on Turning
Why can�t they just get rid of those damn shopping carts with the developmentally disabled wheels? For crissakes, I do not go into Bel Air market only to pay $2.00 per pound of bing cherries to then be led astray by a sub-par cart. Someone help. This is one of the great mysteries of the universe. Honestly. Think about it. How many times have you gotten that blasted cart? You walk in. You are in a hurry. You have only a few veggies to get for your deli tray for the barbeque that night. You pick a cart. It looks nice enough�the plastic cover that says �Safeway� over the push bar doesn�t have major cracks or pieces missing. The paint looks fresh enough. There is even a brand new baby seat belt in the riding basket. Yes. This cart will be perfect. And it is�for awhile. You choose your cherry tomatoes. You venture forth to the celery stalks. You get a great idea! How about some Popsicles to combat this hot weather that could only have originated from the depths of the earth or Hell? (Aside: Could it BE any hotter here in the Sacramento Valley? Where in the blazes (no pun intended, but still�ha!) is a fricking delta breeze when you need one? This 111 degree stuff is crap I tell you!) You mosey on down toward the frozen foods aisle. Then it happens. The front left wheel starts spinning out of control, whipping around in a frenzy of independence. The cart steers itself to the side violently fishtailing around aisle 7. It comes dangerously close to tearing through the glass door of the freezer section and veers straight toward the Marie Callendar beef stroganoff. Then, as if suddenly becoming aware of the fat content of such meals, the cart swerves back around and heads toward the Healthy Choice French bread pizzas. You are too concerned with regaining immediate power of the wayward cart to even notice the 3 for $6 special on your favorite lunch food. It is SO beyond control at this point. Then, as quickly as it spazzed, the wheel is smooth. I was that girl. I was the one in the white capris�you know. You saw her. Cute brown leather belt and all? Yeah, that was me. I was the one cussing like a sailor at the cart that tricked me. I was the one struggling to maintain some semblance of control in the crowded aisles. I was the one who almost mowed you down by the dried lentils. That was me.
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