A note to self to publicly disgrace at my own disgust at how I near always forget to carry a bag with me when I go … to any … shop! Arrrgh. To take a quote from “Rakes” Cleaver Green, I would very much like to shout; “For the love of Mary.” Earnestly, how hard should it be to pack a reusable carry bag when going out.
To try and help with my obvious short term thingo loss when it comes to carrying a reusable carry-bag, I have decided to try out a jigger. Well, not really as that would be all too painful, and quite honestly, pain and I are not ever going to be friends. Not to mention that it is quite ridiculous, but I will happily use the jigger metaphorically as in that I have a reusable bag already packed on the back of the pushy. (A pushy would be perhaps more commonly known – outside of Australia, or Queensland for that matter, as a bicycle. I’ve no idea on the origins of this Aussie slang, but if you feel inclined, I would be keen to know what you find).
The other prod is in the front of a car – my car – rather than the boot. Because to remember to open the back and take a bag out is just, well … it just upsets me that I am not conscious of what I am doing. The most likely cause is that I cannot drive more than 10 minutes without busting to go to the loo.
Then I went shopping, in someone else’s car … “Ohh, for the love of Mary!”
Then I cleaned out the fridge.
Its worthy to say that this task just fills me with as much joy as doing the ironing. I did however, scream surprise; not an actual scream of the word surprise, but that strangled pitched scream of “oohh-eeeee” at my own delight to be able to reuse a few glass bottles. May not sound like a lot, but for me – hooray – conscientious change. Although, I would really like to say that I rescued them [bottles], but that wouldn’t sound right. Because, what could I say; that the glass bottles were fitfully rescued from the towering and frightfully scary non-recycling rubbish bin.
Statement: P themes likely to be recurring.