Being Not Married

One heavy plastic bag of groceries hangs off of one arm which is also the support of my bag which has the keys. The other arm is trying to hold the other bag of groceries (said bag is holding one of the last few dozen eggs from the store and a glass bottle of spaghetti sauce). Both bags are cutting off circulation after my 5 block walk home in the rain as I tried to hold my sad little umbrella up in the cold, wet rain and wind. I arrive at the door and start the procedure of trying to simultaneously a) hold both bags of groceries; b) keep purse bag on shoulder; c) extract keys from inside tiny zipper pocket inside of bag; d) open screen door with all hands occupied; e) get to door with umbrella still open. In this precarious position, the purse bag falls open mouth to the ground, things spill out, I lose the umbrella, rain starts splashing all over me, and I think, "Dang it. This is what husbands are for. To open the freaking door on a rainy night."