There is nothing new when I utter the words: "I hate grocery shopping".
It is my Karma that this would happen:
I was rushing. Therein lies the problem. I had to get laundry done, shopping, I was having guests over for dinner, I needed to clean and I had the appointment to meet our new adoptive daughter. I was buzzing with excitement and self-induced pressure.
As everyone knows (none better than those who staff my grocery store) I need to be there early. I want to get in, get what I need and get out. I all but fire up the deli slicers while they put on their protective gloves and baseball hats. "Let's go folks! Olive loaf waits for no one!"
I do confess the iPod I received smooths this rough edge in me nicely. I can tune out the world and go about my day. This morning was no different, really. I buzzed up and down aisles, hummed and maybe even danced a bit in front of the cans of black-eyed peas. It's okay. For all they saw, they'll never tell. I was singing "quietly" (I put that in quotes because I was the only one who thought it was quiet...biggest drawback with Nano.) when a gentleman touched my arm. He asked me for marshmallows. He'd been searching and couldn't find them. I popped an earpiece and directed him to the bakery aisle. Nope not there, he'd already looked. We shrugged at each other and I went back to my place at center stage. "Thank You. I'll be here all morning!"
I had to buy dog food; a big bag. No sweat, I just heaved into the not-so secret compartment at the bottom of the buggy where all children (and certain adults) wish they could ride. It's the ultimate perch because in order to do it right, you have to look like you're flying: arms and legs outstretched. You get dirty because you essentially sweep the floor with your body but it's awesome...so I've been told. Having finished my list, I head to the register and spot on a bottom shelf : marshmallows. I must have looked like I'd won the jackpot in a bingo match. Whoooopieee. I left my cart (so I'd remember where they were) and searched out the gentleman. I didn't see him and went back to my cart....I couldn't remember where I was parked but eventually spotted my crinkle cut fries and bag of dog food. Big bag.
He's standing next to my buggy and we point at the marshmallows simultaneously. "Ah! Right HERE! Now my wife can make Rice Krispie treats!" He's happy. I am to...considering all things. I swing the buggy around and continue my personal "trail of tears" to the register, get in line and begin to unload; saving the best for last: the dog food. My cashier wants me to hoist it up on to the belt. No problem. I wait for it to come back to me so I can put it back in the buggy.
As I pick it up, I hear a small "fick" followed by a gradually louder "shhhhHHHHHHHHH" as the entire contents of the dog food bag empties onto the floor in a rush. Yes, it certainly WAS Kibble and Bits and Bits...and bits. I stood there and when it was 9/10 empty, the steady stream slowing to a trickle, I shook the damn thing to get ALL the bits out. Why not? What was I supposed to do? Try and save it? No chance. It was seething across the floor like an angry mob of army ants. To move in any direction would produce a crunching, grinding noise as the Kibble became bits. "ooooohhhh nooooo." I said softly. One of my ear pieces poignantly popped out and dangled. Then I began to giggle. What else could I do? I was standing in an ankle deep pond of Winston's tasty tidbits.
Cheech was terribly upset: that he'd missed it. I believe he's contacted the store trying to secure the video tape. Lovely. Winston was distraught. He couldn't figure out where all the goodies were or why on EARTH I'd hide them in my shoes and socks.
Bon Apetite~Come again. I enjoy your visits.
