Today, I traipsed round our local supermarket and moaned at the ditherers, the long queue at the deli counter, the even longer queues at the checkouts, to such a degree my wife flatly refused to buy me a coffee afterwards.
As I see it, I've got three choices:
- Don't go to the supermarket again and risk a divorce.
- Go, but don't moan; difficult one there.
- Get a divorce and eat out every day.
I think number 3 just shades it.