Stuff This

How did we get to this? I wondered as I checked out at StuffMart. Somehow, customer service has slipped to all time lows. Jogging around a store of a couple of acres, I select my items. The milk is in the far back right corner but the dog food, equally important, is in the front left. After getting in my morning workout just doing a little shopping, I put the items on the conveyor to checkout. Having done that, I must then stand by as a bagger.

The cashier puts the items in the bag, turns the turntable so that I can reach the bag, and I'm expected to load my own cart. As I stood doing this the other day, the cashier told me that she was "running out of room here" but I was still loading the conveyor. Hurry up, I'm sure she was thinking. HOW have we women, who do most of the shopping, allowed ourselves to be treated so? How is it that they've managed to get us to do all the work and pay for the privilege? After spending over $300 (I used to think a good day was getting out under $100), does anyone ask if I need help out? No, I now have the task of gingerly steering the cart with bags that don't quite fit as well as the unbagged cart, watching that William doesn't get run over, and then loading the car myself. Something is wrong with this picture.

Hottern' Blue Blazes

Whoo, is it hot! And I went out in it! Had to go to StuffMart to restock after a week of being on the go. Dh says he doesn't know why they even bother to print him a paycheck. We ought to just have it direct deposited to StuffMart and we can just go over there and have our purchases deducted from our account.

We are about out of hay, but luckily, the middle pasture has some grass. We are slowly letting the horses onto it and will let them eat that until next week when my hay guy promises that he'll have the first cutting. Likely, I'll have to take a number to get some.

My writing time is short today, for even though it is late, I promised William that he could run through the sprinkler before bedtime. Maybe more writing time later?