Bony Fingers

I know it's not what God had in mind when he said that Adam and Eve would have to work hard to scratch food out of the ground. And I know that my timing's not great considering my last entry was on doing everything without grumbling or complaining.

But, heavens to Betsy, grocery shopping is hard work.

It took me four hours today to buy enough groceries for the next two weeks. It took another two hours to put everything away. (Almost everything. I'm still not sure where to put the six pounds of raisins I bought in the bulk food section-- I don't have the right sized tupperware, but I also don't want to reach into a sticky bag to get out raisins for my cereal.)

I had my little rant about how hard I work. I stopped somewhere short of the family classic, "I work my finger to the bone and what do I get? Bony fingers!"

And now it's time to start dinner. Pizza night. Is it easier to make my own or to get in the car and go get some?

What a spoiled brat I am-- too tired to make pizza? How about being thankful that we have food, not only for tonight, but for tomorrow and next week and the week after that. That is incredible luxury.

In all the years we spent in Africa, I never once heard anyone say, "I'm too tired to make dinner tonight. I think I'll order out." I never heard anyone say, "Grocery shopping is hard work." They would have been blown away by how much we spend at the store. Today I spent 2/3 of the yearly wage in Togo just to get a cart full of food.

Hard work? Not comparatively speaking. But I'm still pooped.