The other day while grocery shopping, I somehow ended up pushing another customer’s cart. I made it all the way from the chicken to the checkout before I realized what I’d done. Staring at the slabs of meat someone else had picked out, I retraced my steps in the hopes of finding my buggy – with my groceries — and returning this one to its rightful owner.
It took a while, but eventually the swap was made. The middle-aged woman was slightly agitated that I’d walked off with her buggy. I was slightly agitated that she assumed I was the culprit. After all, it could have been her.
But I doubt it. Ten minutes later, it happened again. After cart-swapping with another miffed middle-aged woman, I paid for my groceries and wondered why I was so distracted. Was menopause to blame? Or breast cancer? Perhaps Parkinson’s disease? Could cart-swapping lead to something more serious?
Who knows? And I’m not going to worry – unless somehow I end up driving someone else’s car to someone else’s home and unpacking someone else’s groceries…