How come I’m standing here in the self-checkout line without a single bag to put my groceries in—unless I cough up ten cents to buy one? The bags I brought with me are right where I put them—in the trunk of my car. I keep them there so I’ll always have them when I go shopping. Ever since the BL—bag law—was passed I’ve been forgetting to bring bags with me when I shop, so keeping them in my trunk was an inspiration. They’d always be there.
How come I’m standing here in the self-checkout line without a single bag to put my groceries in—unless I cough up ten cents to buy one? The bags I brought with me are right where I put them—in the trunk of my car. I keep them there so I’ll always have them when I go shopping. Ever since the BL—bag law—was passed I’ve been forgetting to bring bags with me when I shop, so keeping them in my trunk was an inspiration. They’d always be there.
Trouble is, out of sight, out of hand. I keep forgetting and leaving them in the trunk while I hurry in to get whatever it is I’m shopping for. This time I remembered them. I was cruising around looking for a parking spot when I saw a guy with funny looking bags coming across the parking lot. I told myself, “Don’t forget your bags.” Remembering the last time I reminded myself and forgot them anyway, I told myself again, “Don’t forget your bags!”
I parked, hopped out of the car, went through the automatic doors and went merrily on my way, up and down the aisles, gathering foods and toothpaste and other important stuff we’d run out of. Bags? Never gave them a thought.
I know. I should keep the bags in the front seat where I can see them. But they’re such a motley crew. They’d look a mess, bags of all sizes and colors sliding around the front seat. Besides, that’s where people sit when they ride with me. And if I put them in the back seat, they might as well be in the trunk ’cause I wouldn’t see them anyway.
When I finished checking my items, the automated machine asked how many bags I wanted to buy. Silly me. Stubborn me. I pressed “none” on the screen and gathered up my six items, juggling them, trying various arrangements until I could hold them all without dropping anything, not even the toothpaste. I tiptoed out to the car so carefully I didn’t drop a single item. I knew I could do it!
Standing there with my hands full, it was kind’a hard getting my keys out of my purse and I barely got the car door open before everything exploded onto the seat, half of the stuff falling to the ground. Should’a bought a bag.
It’s even worse at Rite-Aid. Who’d think to bring their own bags into Rite-Aid? But what you buy at Rite-Aid is always awkward to hold in two hands and then when the checker asks if you want to buy a bag for those three items, even though you almost dropped the butterfly solar light on your way to the counter, you politely say, “No thank you. I’m okay.” And if you make it to the car, well what the heck? You saved ten cents.
I’m learning. I have a note posted to my dash. “DON’T FORGET THE BAGS!” We’ll see how that works. I just have to remember to look at it.
