When Little Irritations Get Out of Hand

The grocery cart rocked on its wobbly wheel. I thought about exchanging it for another cart, but I was in a hurry. Halfway down the cereal aisle it squealed and pitched like an obstinate pig.

Darcy, my best friend since second grade, waved as she strolled toward me, a basket looped over her arm.

“Hi. Fancy meeting you.” Darcy frowned. “Your cart clunks.”

“I know.”

Why does she always point out the obvious?

“Exchange it.”

“I'm almost finished.”

She knotted her eyebrows, and stepped in front of me to pull a box of rice off the shelf. “Suit yourself. But I wouldn't put up with that.” She adjusted her glasses and turned the box to its content side.

“Maybe I like a challenge.”

She looked back at me and raised an eyebrow. A marimba rift interrupted us, and

Darcy glanced at her phone. “I need to take this.” She dropped the rice into her basket and stepped away. “See ya,” she called over her shoulder.

I thrust my carriage forward as it wobbled and lurched past the Sugar Pops. Even though she was my friend, she could be annoying. Truth was that clunky wheel was getting to me. I was peeved with Darcy and this cart! I gave it a good shove. The left wheel locked. I gritted my teeth.

By now, the difficulty with the grocery cart had become a significant battle. And I wasn’t backing down. Not this time! I jammed the cart forward. It bucked and pitched. My patience had evaporated. I pursed my lips. Then rammed it. Rammed with the force of a raging elephant on steroids. The cart hooked a left. It smashed into an end-cap that balanced a pyramid of soup cans. My eyebrows shot up. My mouth fell open. Cans cascaded to the floor. The whole display collapsed in a deafening roar. Cans spun and rolled. In every direction. There I was in the middle of the mess. All eyes were on me. Several shoppers stepped over the rolling cans, and proceeded on their way. A couple of baggers in Grocer-green aprons arrived to clear the aisles of soup cans. Darcy approached the chaos and made no effort to hide a smirk.

“Ma’am,” A young man hurried toward me. “Are you ready to check out?”

I nodded, eager to leave. It must have been mutual.