Shopping: the grocery store.
It happened again this evening. I don't know what the the attraction is between me and grocery carts. They don't all roll toward me. I'm not that magnetic. Just the lame and limping ones attract me. It could be something out of that classic TV show, The Twilight Zone. Can you hear that low, throaty, mono-toned voice of the uncredited announcer saying...."They come to her, unwilling carts, drawn to her. All she wants is to shop. All they want is to be played. That's right, played. When she pushes them, they make beautiful music together." I don't know the cart is broken when I wrap my hands firmly around the handle. That's because it doesn't start until I'm actually in the store. The carts trick me. But once I get through those doors, the racket begins And it's too late. I feel guilty if I actually reject one and take it back to the lot. So I push onward...avoiding the disdaining looks of fellow shoppers who hear the of