I Hate Tesco

This spoiled-brat post was bound to happen. My flatmate warned me. The "Hypermarket" at the Andel station isn't so bad, but the department store version closer to work and my tram stop is like this:

groceries
produce
toilet paper
paper towels
batteries

everything on a different floor. And you can't move between them of course, without paying for your one item here, one item there. The grocery level is the one underground- far worse than the Broadway & Harvard QFC whose lighting I loathed so much. No sunlight shines on this broccoli. I was telling Lucie about that fake thunderstorm that happens to the produce in Safeway- when you hear the crackle and then see the miniature sprinklers showering everything. I mean, that is some brilliant trickery to grow up with. Not in this claustrophobic dungeon, where I pretend to be a Middle Ages peasant girl when fighting for my baguettes. Lines as long as the post office! (Although Steffen told me the P.O. is actually the "most civilized" one he's ever been in; I'll find out tomorrow). And if you need contact solution, you go to the optic shop. If you need aspirin for a headache and you haven't gotten to the lekarna (freestanding drugstore) before it closes, you'll have to put cucumbers on your eyes until morning. Cause it's not for sale in Tesco.