Shop-a-holics Anonymous

I have a problem.
It stems from an extreme dislike of stairs combined with a small smidgen of laziness.

Namely:
I insist on carrying all of the groceries up to my apartment in one trip.

No biggie, right?
I'm a single, poor college student. How many groceries can I have?

Which leads me to a second problem.
I love grocery shopping.

Don't even get Gem started on the evils that are Walmart, D.I. and the dollar store. She'll wail on and on about my addiction, claiming I insist on going up and down every aisle, back and forth, round and round, til' she's just about ready to die in the frozen food section.

I tell her if she'd rather die, she'd better do it.

Decrease the surplus population.

Then I suggest one of the coffin freezer chests as the ideal location.

She isn't amused.

Oh, but I am.

The point being: I buy stuff.

Lots of stuff sometimes.

And wouldn't cha know. I am quickly running out of shopping buddies. I am at a loss as to why...

This all equals out into a disastrous equation:

Corinner-Elly + shopping + money - Gem = dead arms.

And so I lead a lonely life. Trudging up three flights of stairs, arms ballooning with fifty shopping bags while teetering a gallon of milk from my pinkie finger. FYI: Pinkie fingers are not meant to withstand this weight.

Ow-ee.

This dangerous habit has lead to other tragic events. Like when I tried to balance a pie, a zucchini cake, a bottle of whipping cream, a serving spatula, a bag of groceries, a bag of decorations and my purse while going down three flights of stairs.

Two glass baking dishes lost their life that day.

I need to join a 12-step program.

Or hire a full-time bag boy.

But make more than one trip up and down the stairs?

Never.