Lift With Your Legs

It allegedly was really hot outside today, but living on the unforgiving, shadeless prairie for most of my life has desensitized me to such things. I sat and worked on the balcony for a good four hours today without breaking a sweat. The breeze coming off the Sound was pretty darn lovely. The people walking around downtown several floors below me looked pretty miserable, though.

The Mister and I had to go grocery shopping this evening. It’s near impossible for us to get out of a grocery store without spending almost $300. It’s because we both love eating, especially fresh fruit and strangely expensive granola bars. I always get concerned while I mentally add up the cost of everything in our cart, but that concern is brushed away when I anticipate biting into those peaches or those cookies that my Nonna used to buy when I came to visit her. Tonight was no exception.

Our cashier was pretty speedy at scanning items and immediately overwhelmed the grocery bagger. She wouldn’t slow down when he expressed his anxiety, so I tried to help him bag our groceries.

Until he slapped me.

Lesson learned, grocery man.

When we got home, Mister and I loaded our four big, blue Ikea bags with our plastic grocery sacks and hauled them upstairs, one on each of our shoulders. Two very nice guys who live in our building held the doors for us and mistakenly thought we had just come from Ikea. We didn’t go into detail in explaining that we’re from Nebraska, and we don’t make two trips. We just carry really heavy things with no regard to ergonomics and back safety. In fact, when Mister and I exert ourselves unnecessarily, we always explain it away with a casual “We’re from Nebraska.” Then, we each carry 120 pounds of groceries the length of a football field, up several flights in the elevator and through four sets of doors.

I can thank the unforgiving, shadeless prairie for making me tough as nails.

Or, you know, tough enough.

Advertisements

One thought on “Lift With Your Legs

  1. Pingback: On Almost Putting the Con in Con Edison | The Sound Life

Comments are closed.