#53 - The Argos Catalogue Of Horrors

We order everything.
The form takes a long time to fill in -
you go through six of those little blue pens,
commenting more than once that you wish there was a
'buy everything' box you could tick. I chuckle politely
both times you say it, whilst privately disdaining your lack
of retail acumen. When we finally get to pick it up from the collection point,
it is mostly thigh bones, tendons, hunks of cartilage,
and also a set of dumbbells.

'We'll never use these,' I say, doing a bicep curl
with a bloodied femur, and we share a chuckle.