"Olds" at the Meat Counter

"Olds" at the Meat Counter
Before the hate mail starts rolling in, let me say this: I will be old someday, or if I don't reach that point, I'll be dead, which is worse anyway. Ok, so...if you are an "old" or worse, a couple of "olds" and you see behind you a mother with a 3 year old and a 16 month old belted in to a double-stroller having simultaneous meltdowns...please, don't take your sweet ass time picking through, and pondering over each and every package of ground beef. You see me (and hear me) standing behind you waiting ever so patiently for you to pick the perfect poundage, checking the expiration date once and then twice. Flipping the package around to make sure it is closed tightly. The basket of groceries on my arm is getting heavier and heavier. The kids are getting antsier and antsier. Can't you just step aside so there is room for all of us? You know I am just going to take 3 seconds to grab something and run so that I don't end up with two, full blown tantrums on my hands. Oh, and by the way, they both have horrible, raging colds, and since you both took so long waiting for the perfect package of hamburger meat...you are both contaminated. Have a SCHWEET day.