I went to the grocery store today. Even though I don’t like going anywhere, I went just the same. Parked in a handicap spot, mostly so I would remember where I parked, and went in. Then waited at customer service for ten minutes to find out why there were no NCAA championship T shirts at the grocery store mere hours after the victory. I kept asking people about the shirts and they would answer me. Then I’d run into another employee who maybe thought I was confused and I, not really wanting to explain that I was generally always clueless at the store, would ask about the T shirts again.
The answer every time was, “No, we’re not getting in any.”
Finally, a man too old to know about the internet approached me and suggested that I purchase them online, something I had never considered.
As a result, I was forced to focus on trying to get the hell out of there with something usable.
This grocery store, which I actually like, has a meal suggestion center. The center displays all the pre-fab fixings for a dinner and the sides right there in one cooler. All I have to do is take them home, let someone else cook them, or watch them rot in the refrigerator. Today, I bought Spanish style breaded pork chops and plantains. Everyone at home, including me, thought it sounded icky.
But it was a decision that was already made by someone else so I took advantage of it. Because making decisions is excruciatingly painful, and is sometimes enough to send me into a fine frenzy.
I wandered around the store next, looking for Mark’s favorite afternoon snack which is also the staple for when I don’t feed him. I knew what aisle they were on and what color box they were, but even though I’d bought a million boxes of them, it didn’t register that they were Hot Pockets until I saw them. But seeing them, I knew for sure and shamefully picked up a box and put it in the bottom of the cart.
I was really hoping the pork chop idea would fly tonight.
Everyone had leftover anything.