Supermarkets

I have just about finished running all errands for 2008. Well I didn't actually run, but I managed just the same. How I hate this errand-running thing. And one thing which continues to mystify me is the thing about other women running the same things. They look so sophisticated, all made up at an unearthly time of 11am. Why would anyone plaster themselves in make up just to buy sausages? Is it necessary to carry a tiny Burberry handbag which is not big enough to fit anyone's set of keys? It's mundane shopping for Christ's sake, what are they going to put in it, an onion perhaps? It's so silly. Now one thing which isn't silly is my Chanel shopping bag which is big enough for anything, and yet I don't use it to go to the supermarket. I hate supermarkets. If I could, I'd go in my pyjamas. Seriously. I really don't know what all the excitement is about. And then I don't understand the reason for dolling up either. Who would I want to impress, the one behind the delicatessen counter? Oh no, no thanks. The thought that a potential boyfriend would have his fingers stuck in cheese all day long is not exciting. Or in some garlicky sausage. Or whatever it is that's soft. I'm soft enough. The thought is enough to make me book myself in for sex therapy, and even that wouldn't work. No, he'd have got to go. There is no way I could ever see myself in this. But, and it's just a thoughtful but, the way single men (single through a failed marriage) seem to be getting very popular in supermarkets, well, then that is a thought. They can be identified by a mile, they just walk up and down pushing the trolley as if the trolley were an extension of their something else which is by far smaller than the trolley. They look out of place, confused, and then some made up woman crosses their path. And there it is in the most primitive of forms, the confused man suddenly turns to look, and he's not confused anymore. So perhaps supermarkets could be the newest place for dating. But then I too am confused, I too drag a trolley looking stupid. And I don't think the trolley is an extension, because I don't have that something else smaller than the trolley. If anything, I have something else, and that is the being practical. I just will never date anybody within the supermarket walls. Because there are expiry dates, and I will never be shaking things to look at the very little coded, computerised date. Because they're in a tin, and I want bigger than that.