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.
