I’m a fast walker. Always have been. I walk faster, everywhere, than nearly everyone I know (except my mother, and even I can’t keep up with her when she’s walking through a mall).
It’s physically difficult for me to walk slowly, even if I’m not in a hurry, and because of this I’m easily annoyed by slow walkers. It’s frustrating to go grocery shopping with my husbandâ€” he prefers to wander along the aisles, checking everything out, while I speed walk through the store with my list and coupons, cursing under my breath every time someone stops in front of me with their cart.
But now, I’ve become my own pet peeve: I am a slow walker.
These days, it takes so much effort to get out of my chair or off the couch that by the time I do, I’m too exhausted to walk. So I shuffle along at a pace slower than the people who normally irritate me at the grocery store. Dave walks faster than I do right now.
And after three hours of Christmas gift shopping last week, I thought I was going to die by the time I got home and collapsed on the couch. So much for power-walking through a mall anytime soon.