Queasy

I get really weird anxiety about really weird things.  One of those things is the grocery store self-checkout line.  I typically don’t choose this line.  Sunday I had to make a run to the store...I quickly realized it was the same day every one else had to make the same quick run to the store.  The lines were wicked long, and you know how impatient I am.  I decided to challenge my anxiety issues and try the self-checkout.  I wait patiently for my turn.  I have about 20 items total, so when it is my turn, I start.  I scan and drop on the belt, scan and drop.  I am halfway through my groceries when it tells me I need to go bag what I have because the belt is too full to continue.  This has never happened to me before.  So do I leave my purse and run to the end of the conveyor belt?  There are people waiting behind me.  I panic.  I quickly stop scanning (only because it won’t let me go further) and run and bag some of the groceries.  Where do I put them? My cart still has stuff in it, and there isn’t a place to set the groceries I have already scanned.  Stupid technology.  Stupid grocery store.  I keep glancing at my cart watching my purse closely, prepared to tackle the 79 year old woman standing next in line.  Knowing old people can be thief's too, I am in full panic mode throwing all groceries in one bag.  I lift the bag to set it on the floor.  Of course.  The bottom rips.  My groceries come crashing to the floor.  Awesome.  Freaking awesome.  Of course.  Damn this stupid line.  I KNEW this was going to be too much for me to handle.  There is a reason God puts grocery baggers on this planet.  They know how to do this crazy complicated job.  I don’t...clearly.  I half debate grabbing my purse and making a mad dash for the door.  I must be strong.  I quickly scramble to pick up my cereal and eight cans that I shoved in one bag.  I re-bag them, not taking my eye off my purse.  I leave them on the floor and run back to the line to scan the rest of my things.  Awesome.  My screen is blinking: Wait for cashier assistance.  Never.  Again.  I wait for her to come over and push some buttons.  I finish scanning my things trying to hold my tears back as my line multiplies by the minute.  I pay and rush to the end of the belt to load the rest of my things.  Screw the bag.  I throw the rest of my stuff in the cart and run to the door.  I take a deep breath as I reach my car.  This is why I don’t cook.  I can’t handle self-checkout...it makes me feel queasy.  My new excuse, Chief.  I just can’t handle the stress of getting food at the store.  It is much easier to pull into a restaurant.  Love you, Babe.