The haze of laze
I finally escaped the grasp of laziness to do some shopping that I should have done soon after I returned from holiday on Monday.
The convenience of just going downstairs where the supermarket is on the ground floor sometimes breeds a sense of slothful procrastination that begets a sour realisation that the store is close when a cursory glance is cast at the clock.
Without my visit today, I would not have known that all the while when I thought the shop was closed at 21:00 hours, from the beginning of the month the opening hours had been extended to 22:00 hours.
Soft and decorated
In any case, I took the empty glass bottles to the recycling bin and made for the supermarket, hitching a large trolley for my sweep of goods, foods, materials and drinks.
When I got to the aisle with toilet paper I was met with all sorts of choices and the options for comfort; 2-ply, 3-ply, 4-ply, soft, strong, firm, scented and decorated. What on earth would you need decorated toilet paper for?
Meanwhile, the quilted ones that had that fluffy feel were no more on sale, the balance of tender over the profligacy had to be met in the lightly decorated 3-ply option – I will just have to take a deep breath and hope for the best.
Little or large?
My mathematical head got the better of me as I thought about getting the tubs of Natural Greek Yoghurt, the large tub was 500g going for EUR 2.65 and the 170g tubs going for 85 Euro cents. The label for the 170g tubs listed them as 150g tubs which would have turned out dearer than the larger tub if I got 3 small tubs, but with the real weight of the tubs I had 510g for EUR 2.55.
Not that it would have really mattered but it meant, I have space the times between the consumption of each small tub than having to finish the large tub within a number of days.
The fuzzy logic that informs the whole process might turn out into a thesis but my trolley was full and it meant I was going to wheel the trolley upstairs than attempt to carry all that stuff the 150 metres to the main entrance and 7 floors up.
One of the fringe benefits of living above a supermarket and long may that be.