Gut, you giant dork.
I mean that in the best possible way, of course.
Perhaps I have my sturdy plastic canoe surrounded by a flotilla of menacing leaf boats bent on stealing the precious beaver pelt cargo.
And yes, I’m a huge dork. Single? But of course.
I do not like catching snowflakes on my tongue. The first big fluffy snowflakes on a quiet still night. I am not staring in facination at them, against my dark coat sleeve, trying to count the number of points on them. I am taking samples, to study the clarify of the water that went into the snowflakes. Of course I am.
((Gut, come on over and bring your canoe. I’ve got a wonderful stretch of gutter in front of my house and come spring, the sand from the winter before makes all kinds of fun places for your boat to run aground and the pirates attack it!))
The reason I ran and jumped on the back of the shopping trolley and rode it all the way down the supermarket was merely to save time in passing things I had no intention of buying, so as not to clog the aisles, and to get to where my wife was faster. I did not do it to see how far I could get before crashing into someone/something or being shouted at by the staff. I’m nearly 40 for God’s sake. I do not do this stuff for fun.
Sand bars for running aground you say Tastes of Chocolate? Pirates? I’m going to have to find me some little plastic ninjas to protect my boat!
I also ride the shopping cart back to the car in the interest of efficiency jjimm. The faster I get there the faster I can return the cart to it’s coral and the faster I can vacate my parking spot for the next person. All perfectly grown up and mature.