Practically every time I go to the grocery store, I brazenly reject the receptacle loan service at the front of the store.

And seconds later…

Considering how often I drop things or try to carry more than I am physically able, I have to assume that–if they’re of any use at all–my genes/DNA are already working on some evolutionary solution. My descendants will probably have extra arms or something awesome like that. But this is useless to me for two reasons: 1. I don’t know those assholes. And 2. I’ll be dead by then.

I need a solution now. Don’t worry. I’ve already got the perfect thing in mind: I’m actively searching for a vaguely qualified doctor to sew a kangaroo pouch to my stomach.

Excuse me while I imagine the possibilities.

I know the above solution is mediocre at best, but that did not stop me from letting my imagination run wild on this next idea.

Sick of folding and sorting laundry I am never actually going to put away (I mean; I’m only one person, one extremely lazy person to be more specific), I’ve also brainstormed some improvements in home decorating, cleaning and/or organizing.