Not so much nerdy
This is more one of the MANY sad little things I do that nobody else understands....

Shopping for bread.
Now, I'm not a huge fan of symmetry - I go out of my way to arrange things asymmetrically. However, choosing a loaf requires astute attention to detail i.e:
the crust must be crusty, but not so much that it resembles polystyrene on one's teeth;
the top must be neither rounded nor flat, but the perfect medium between the two;
the sides have to be perpendicular - any kinks or grooves are to be rejected;
likewise it is compulsory that all slices are perpendicular - the merest slant constitutes rejection.

Having selected satisfactory loaf, I place it in the child seat of the trolley with meticulous care, lest it be nudged/dented/spoiled by heavier items in the main basket.

All other goods are placed on the conveyor belt with another system with which I won't bore you - for it is tedious.

Finally, I pick up the loaf with the utmost caution, either by cupping it gently by the two crust ends, or handling it by the sticky-ouy bit of the wrapper at the fastened end.

Then what happens....?

I always refuse the nice lady's offer of help with my packing of groceries. For all it is a genuinely kind offer and her name badge proclaims that she is "happy to help", I just know that she will fuck up my System of Packing.

Then I get so engrossed with said system, I forget the Loaf!! FFS, it's taken me 20 minutes to select the fucker......
How can I forget It??

Miss Happy To Help reaches for my prestigously selected loaf....

*fuck, I'm starting to shake and sweat*

She grapples it bruskly BY THE FUCKING MIDDLE and squishes it over the scanner with gay abandon.....

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!!

(That's the blood-curdling scream emitted from me)

See Tourettes' heart rate spike uncontrolably off the map. See her blood pressure rapidly rise to 190/127. Feel the palpitations. Mop up the profuse sweat. Colour in the temors.

"What's wrong madam? Do you require medical assistance?"
(Turns to tannoy) "Could the instore First Aider please attend checkout 16 - code 42b!"

I am speechless and in shock. I still stutter occasionally, when stressed/menstrual/both. The only way to break the stutter is to shout out a swearword at top volume, then fluency of speech returns. (My swearing is always fluent, not to mention prolific.)

But on this occasion my mouth flaps in useless silence. I am so traumatised, I cannot even swear.

Other customers and staff are exchanging glances, contemplating which one of them is going to make the phone call instigating me being "sectioned" under the Mental Health Act.

I have to be quietly escorted home, sat down with a Nice Cup of Tea and swathed in my favourite Brown Fleecy Blanket.

My face still resembles that of Bishop Brenan's, having been kicked up the arse by Father Ted several hours later.
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Fri 7 Mar 2008, 22:30, 6 replies)

Unfortunately I can testify that this is true
The first time we went shopping together, I thought I'd be helpful and start packing. As I picked up the loaf of bread in the middle, I just heard a startled intake of breath followed by a despairing "Nooooooooo"...

Honestly, I thought I was going to get my bollocks cut off.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 7 Mar 2008, 22:42, closed)

Haaaaaaa!
You are more OCD than me (and I insist on packing groceries in correct categories and I always have to have the salt and pepper cellars together and I am alarmed by cross-sections of macaroni cheese because it makes me want to claw my veins out).

How do you actually use the bread? Is there a particular sandwich/toast procedure? And do you own a super advanced breadbin?
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Sat 8 Mar 2008, 0:55, closed)

too traumatised to swear?
WOW! that is bad.



have you thought of baking your own so you can better control the symmetry while avoiding potential 'grabing in the middle' mishaps?
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Sat 8 Mar 2008, 1:58, closed)

And another thing
Why, when you respectfully decline the offer of having your carefully selected groceries ineptly packed by the till-troll, does it then turn into Bleep Race 2000?

You're still attempting to get the frigging bags unhooked from the dispenser thingy (I know, environmental criminal, but they stopped paper ones and use degradables now) when...
BIP.......BIP......BIP.....BIP....BIP...BIP..BIP.BIP.BIP.BIP.BIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIP

The till person is a blur of speed as they shovel your easily bruised purchases along at a speed that makes a bag of chillies capable of causing injury to a small child.

And then, and then, they look at you in contempt as you scrabble away attempting to pack according to your sensible bag usage plan, and then bray the total so that it's obvious that the hopeless bloke surrounded by a cloud of orange plastic is obviously a duffer at this packing malarkey.

And then ask you for a bloody loyalty card.

Phew.

(Explanatory: I'm a foodie, and spend time picking my fruit,veg, fish etc so don't like a grubby fingered troglodyte groping my goodies and then lobbing them down the till like it's a bowling alley)

(and yes I have a packing system)
(osok Rebel without a clue, Sat 8 Mar 2008, 13:33, closed)

Aha! Packing systems!
I'm so pleased to read that I'm not the only person with a packing system! It has to be packed correctly and the 'help' is anything but. Even PJM knows to leave the packing to me now.

I also have systems for all the cupboards in the kitchen and I always get a little thrill when all my tins face the correct direction. The next person who mutters 'Sleeping with the Enemy' will get a tin of beans lobbed at their head. And I like to keep all my herbs and spices in a drawer. In alphabetical order.

I also have a system for hanging out the washing. In fact I have systems for most things - life is easier that way, I no longer have to think about how to do things, I just follow the system.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Mon 10 Mar 2008, 0:50, closed)

^ Christ....
I'd forgotten my system for hanging out the washing.
DG sometimes thinks he's helping by *GETTING UP* THE *LOAD*. I smile, through gritted teeth and after 4 or 5 seconds I can no longer bare to watch. He has blatant disregard for my System! He hangs the socks out *WILLY*-nilly! (Ok, he does match them in correct pairs.) This task takes me 45 minutes minimum - neither DG or my son turn their socks the right way out - I catch most of them before washing - a sock that has been washed inside-out is bad enough...but when it's semi-reversed? AARRGH!!!

They must all be flattened out symmetrically, *FROM BEHIND*. Socks absolutely cannot be *HUNG* sideways - perish the very thought!

*shakes head despairingly*
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Mon 10 Mar 2008, 13:12, closed)