Loathe is a bit of a strong word for disliking, although I am getting very near to loathing shopping, especially if I have to do it on my own. Usually Mr. Swiss comes with me, since we are both retired, at least 10 years, but there is always the exception to the rule and today was one of them.
Mr. Swiss was under the weather (we golden oldies have that now and again) and so I sort of volunteered to do the shopping on my own – that was the first mistake. First of all I had to conquer the fear of driving a car. Of course I can drive a car and once it is on the road, no problem. It moves and as long as I avoid people crossing the road it goes OK. Mr. Swiss usually drives, although he has an idea that I could drive home, but that does not work. Now I can use the word loath and I loathe driving when he is next to me, because he is giving instructions constantly.
So today I saddled up the car and was on my way. My left leg no longer functions, but no problem. Who needs a left leg when you drive an automatic and I am only allowed to drive an automatic. So I arrived at the supermarket safe and sound and all three parking places reserved for the handicapped were free, which does not often happen. I stopped loathing because it meant that I could park next to the entrace to the mini mall that we have. The shopping list floats on a cloud on my iPhone meaning that when I buy somthing I cancel it from the list and even Mr. Swiss sees it when he is at home.
I start to loathe the shopping when I begin to slow down. I forgot to take the shopping bag with me from the car, so just loaded everything into the trolley and filled up the bags when I returned to the car. Unfortunately 6 oversized bottles of Pepsi had to be bought . I just aimed and threw the packet of six plastic oversized heavy bottles and thanks to the gravitational pull they arrived at their destination in the boot of the car. Another loathe. I drove home after spending more than an hour on my task because I was really down to slow motion. However, once in the car my loathing had almost gone to just a mild case of hatred.
The next loathe was when I reached home. I parked the car in our underground garage and could not open the door from the garage, due to fingers that are no longer so well attached to the hands. However, I piled the shopping on the trolley we have next to the car and arrived home to a worried Mr. Swiss who found I had been away a long time. He even tried to call me on my phone through worry, but either I did not hear it, or ignored it. We are still debating
How can anyone enjoy a shopping trip? Or shall I call it a loathing trip.