Yesterday was an excellent day. After vanquishing the rehab menace, I went down to my local consumable goods proprietor to purchase the core components for today’s cooking session. As a deviant, I feel a sense of obligation to perverting the course of efficiency, to that end I made a series of deviations away from the schnitzel, minced garlic and ginger I had originally sought to procure .

As a person new to the shopping game I have come to the realisation that the aisles of food can be classified more broadly than the abundant signage would care to allude to. Some aisles contain good things, some bad , and then there are those which might as well be labelled “cause of the obesity epidemic”. It was perusing one of the bad aisles that I noticed something which invoked a universal state of accessibility-related euphoria across the entire parallel universe in which I live.

As an author I can’t (yet) pre-interpret the  thoughts contained in your brain goo, but I feel it’s safe to assume that you are at a loss as to how a simple movement of product could be the catalyst for such a state. This dear reader is no mere movement, this is the movement of product from a location which I can’t reach to one which I can. This is monumental for my kind because it is a rare demonstration of someone with legs making life easier for someone without them. The V was moved, and now I can reach it.

Those of you who know me know much addicted I got to V a few months ago, I have since kicked the addiction but it’s nice to know there is no longer any awkwardness associated with acquiring it should I so desire.

In the words of Stewie Griffin “Victory is mine!”


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