Groceries Again
After yesterday's errands, I sat down to blog eloquently about moments of human kindness encountered outside of my temporary apartment.
After today's errands, I fried the cracked egg and cleaned up the leaking milk that were casualties of my hurry when someone tried to cut in front of me at the grocery store because they were confused about when the cashier had said they could ring up an extra shopping bag. And by the time I cleaned up the mess, I found Pippin trying to sneak a nap on my bed before the authorised time.
Yes, I do go to two grocery stores. Often weekly. With a 7-8 kilo child strapped to my front and several more kilos of groceries in my backpack and little 'oma karretje' at my side. Which all need lugged up our apartment stairs. I feel my muscles should be much more defined than they are, but at least the workout is enough to burn off the handfuls of fresh nuts now available in the bulk bins at Lidl and the bitter chocolate at Dirk. Another recent upside of Lidl is a jovial new employee who talks to Pippin and makes faces at him. It makes me happy to shop where I recognise people, instead of just dealing with strangers.
This is what 'oma karretjes' looks like, so named because it's usually grandmothers who pull these carts around. Most other people put the groceries in the bottoms of strollers, in the baskets and saddlebags of their bikes, or - shock - in their car. If Faramir comes along to the store, I depend on his muscled arms to carry some of our heavy cotton grocery bags. When I take the baby carrier, my karretje collapses and fits in my backpack until we check out.
After today's errands, I fried the cracked egg and cleaned up the leaking milk that were casualties of my hurry when someone tried to cut in front of me at the grocery store because they were confused about when the cashier had said they could ring up an extra shopping bag. And by the time I cleaned up the mess, I found Pippin trying to sneak a nap on my bed before the authorised time.
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This is what 'oma karretjes' looks like, so named because it's usually grandmothers who pull these carts around. Most other people put the groceries in the bottoms of strollers, in the baskets and saddlebags of their bikes, or - shock - in their car. If Faramir comes along to the store, I depend on his muscled arms to carry some of our heavy cotton grocery bags. When I take the baby carrier, my karretje collapses and fits in my backpack until we check out.
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