It’s been just over a week since we moved into our Oahu condo, home for the next eight months. A place I’d never dreamed we’d be living (Hawaii’s incredibly low real estate market definitely was to our advantage). The view is amazing! We walk around in wide-eyed wonder most of the time.
View from my desk!
There is so much to get used to, living in a high rise. Things I’d really not thought about before – navigating groceries through the elevators for one. Bringing loaded shopping bags in from the parking garage requires pulling into a “drop-off” spot, signing in the car (thirty minutes max), grabbing a grocery cart (or two), filling it up and heading for the elevator.
It can be quite embarrassing when someone else is going up at the same time as it seems to be a natural instinct to peruse what’s in the baskets. Typical conversation goes something like this, “Nice breeze today, isn’t it?”
“Yes, very nice. I see you prefer Northern brand over Charmin. Is it for the softness or the strength?”
By the time we get to the 35th floor, I’ve learned way more than I need to about our neighbor’s toilet tissue preferences. We say goodbye and now the real fun begins.
The elevator doors pop open and silent, wide, carpeted corridors await. I push out first, shooting headlong down the hallway with Cheryl in hot pursuit tagging my heels with tips of asparagus jutting out from the bottom of her cart. We race toward our door – carts tipping precariously, tomatoes rolling, milk sloshing, threatening to dump an entire afternoon’s shopping on the white carpet.
The RACE TRACK!
In minutes we reach our door at the end of the hallway – Cheryl usually wins by blocking my cart just as we round the corner (or as she tells it, she wins because I can’t keep mine from careening off the walls on the turn). We tumble into the condo in fits of laughter over our VERY serious competition – because whoever gets in last has to put away the groceries! We’ve discovered the lost art of cart racing and if a few melons get bruised in the process, we think it’s a small enough price to pay.
About the author: whatboundaries
