So – in the past week, I’ve had to go back up to North Jersey twice to shop for things.  (That’s one of the only disadvantages of having furniture all from IKEA.)  The first time, I had the brace on my arm still, and I was trying to maneuver two of those stupid carts with four turning wheels.  I can’t tell you how many dirty looks I got from people, I even had one lady shove one of my carts so she could get by, as if I wasn’t having enough trouble not bumping into people and things as it was.  Today I decided to hit the Paramus store instead, because you can bring your cart to your car.  Shopping alone in Elizabeth is a pain because you have to drag all your stuff to a locker at the far end of the parking, lock it up, get your car, wait for a loading spot, unlock the locker, and drag your cart to the car, sometimes quite a ways.  Well.  I got several pieces of furniture, one of which was heavy and fairly unwieldy for a solo shopper with a wild dancing cart. However, I’ve become something of a pro at this.  I lifted one end into the van, and then, balancing it, went around the cart, pushed the cart up against the car as I pushed the box into it, and I suddenly saw bright lights.  I turn around, and it’s the guy from the parking spot directly opposite mine pulling out.  I’m trying to hold up this piece of furniture, unable at this point to move backwards or forwards with it, and I’m yelling at the guy.  He sees me.  He keeps backing up.  The furniture is wobbling.  I’m yelling.  He keeps backing up.  I could have sat on his bumper, he pulled so close to me.  Oh, yes, folks.  He was watching very carefully to make sure he didn’t actually back into me.  I will spare my gentle readers the horrible words I would use to describe this guy – you all have fine imaginations, I’m sure you can guess.