Sometimes I break things. I try not to, but sometimes it can't be helped. My wee midget hands are not equipped with the necessary phalanges to transport Object A to Location B without dropping it onto Floor C.
Case in point: I splattered a glass jar of EXPENSIVE pasta sauce all over the floor yesterday while unloading my groceries in the Busch's checkout aisle. I must have been trying to move too quickly.... the little moving tarp thing was moving on without me and I must.... fill... the space.... So I fumbled and dropped the bottle. It smelled nice, but there was glass and a large mess.
It really wasn't a big deal. The cashier was cool about it and was nice enough to not charge me, even though I offered to pay.
Alas, the woman behind me was less than accommodating. She kept scooting closer, then backing away, then rolling her cart closer, then backing away again. It's like she needed a running start to approach the checkout. She was visibly battling with herself... do I stay in this aisle?... do I switch aisles?... do I stay for a little while and THEN switch aisle?? And between each try, she would glare at me. There was *plenty* of room for her to unload after me, by the way... somehow I managed to break it off to the side by the magazine rack rather than in the middle of the aisle's walkway. But eventually she just reversed it out of my aisle and tried someone else. Then the little grocery helper came with his box of baking soda and his cleaner kit and roped off the area.
The rope really made me feel bad... causing someone to rope off an area because of how HAZARDOUS and DISTRACTING it has become.
I'm sorry I broke the sauce! I'M SORRY!
Don't hate me. Hate Muir Glen Organics for making their bottles so girthy.
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