It's a big call, I know, but I'm holding out until I've run out of options before I will willingly shop online. It's part politics, part pragmatism, not a bit bloody-mindedness.
You see, I like shops, and I like shopping, even for groceries, and I haven't been able to have a bar of it for just over a month now, laid up as I am with my dodgy ankle.
Oh, I've had a quick wheel around the supermarket for emergency supplies with an impatient ex, but not the kind of shopping I like, which is slow and steady, fulfilling and fruitful.
It would make a great deal of sense to start online shopping, especially as I'm having to rely on others for my groceries, but try as I will (and I have twice) I just find the online shopping business soul destroying.
I want to smell the fruit, feel the meat, dig out the specials. (Just like I want to try on the shoes, flick through the books, feel the fabric.) All that bloody clicking from lists is tedious, overwhelming and sad. And what's to become of the checkout chicks? Is the self-serve checkout not demeaning enough?
So I'll have to keep prevailing on the kindness of family and friends until I am brave enough to get behind the wheel of the car (borrowed automatic, no manual for me for some time) or brave enough to instruct while my brand new L-plater drives. (She's only been out with her father so far, and mostly to industrial estates, but they're going okay.) And then I just need to work out how to push a trolley while in a wheelchair or on crutches (I have newfound respect for the disabled), but I suppose if I have the learner driver with me she or her brother can push the trolley, a task they fought over as littlies. So bugger you Coles and Woolies online. We'll eat from the pantry until the cupboard's bare.
In the meantime, can anyone who visits me just please bring milk?
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