Beer Delivery

I have many issues, maybe more personal problems if you will. I recently found out that I can't sit in a movie theater unless I'm on the end seat. What this means about my next plane flight, since I haven't been on one in five years, I don't even want to think about. Airport security, TSA, I'll end up flipping out and in jail. If not over the confined space, the $8 beers.

I have a thing with people in confined areas. Not even confined areas, just people in general. The general public. I don't know if it's me or them. Normal people buying groceries, going about their daily lives. Me waiting behind them at the checkout, with (just) six 30 packs of beer, I can't deal with it. I don't know if it's because I'm such a degenerate that I need to purchase six 30 packs at once or that these people feel the need to stall my simple purchase (simi arrogant B talking there). I just can't stand waiting in line at the checout. I'd buy more than six 30 packs at a time if I could fit them in my car, trust me.

The Renter thinks I'm an asshole, that I can't wait for other people. Part of her opinion might be true. I am an asshole. I didn't say anything to the little girl who bumped in to me at the bank because she was wandering around with her coat over her head, but I wanted to. "What the fuck?" "Can you watch your kid?" But I needed $300 out of my account, didn't want to piss off the bank tellers.

Last weekend I was at the store, strolling at a snail's pace behind this old lady. By the time I got to the cashier I was a sweaty mess. My fingers hurt from squeezing the life out of the shopping cart.

"Thanks for waiting."

The cashier was making small talk, or so I thought.

"No, no problem." I lied.

"I saw the look on your face. Really, thanks for waiting."

Was it that obvious?

So now I'm left at a quandry. Do I go back to the store with the cheapest prices and have to wait in line? Or I could hit a local liquor store, with no wait, but without shopping carts, make three trips in and out the door to get my weekly fix?

The Renter knows how I am. She's at Sam's Club calling me with things she thinks I might like, deals on bulk items, because she knows I can't spend more than 15 minutes in a store without having an anxiety attack. Surprisingly she's ok with this, not cool with it but she understands.

That said, I'd pay big bucks to have beer delivered to my house every Saturday. And chicken breasts and frozen pizza.

Beer delivery.