I went to the Grocery Store yesterday - which ya'all know I hate to do - and had a list. Not a complicated list. A well devised list. One that was separated into sections: Produce, Dairy, Dry, Misc. - for easier and faster shopping.
I was ready.
I get my cart and quickly put it back. It looked like a ton of corn had exploded its husks all over it and the idea of pushing around a buggy with flaxen hair all over it grossed me out.
So I mosey over and grab another one and start by eyeballing the produce. I need celery. There are celery pieces, cut up in a plastic cup. There is organic celery. There are celery hearts. Poor celery - I bet some kumquat ripped out it's heart. hee hee.
And then it starts. Just as I am pulling into the noodle and sauce aisle a little old lady, purse slung over her chest and hands in her JC Penney pockets starts her slow amble. She has all the time in the world. Nowhere to go. She's spending the evening at the grocery store. I try to avoid her. Try to go around her. But she blocks me. I go for peaches. She's there trying to decide if paying five cents more for Dole is worth it or not. She measures the cans with her eyes, carefully reading the ingredients. I fake left and make my way to the oil and salad dressings.
She's there, too! She's fondling the olive oil!
And then it happens. The young couple with the two wailing kids close in behind me. I'm trapped. The two kids, very tiny, are crammed into the front of the cart. They seem to be having a contest to see who can scream the loudest/make the most annoying sound ever/make my head explode. My uterus actually clenched. The parents uselessly plead with them to be quiet and then yell at them to stop.
I want to smack them with a canned ham and pelt them with my birth control pills.
So I'm stuck. I can't move forward because Ms. Granny "I may die before my milk's gonna expire, so I might as well take my time" Pants is now heavily debating between peanut and olive oil. I'm amazed how something that's 90 lbs can take up a whole aisle. Behind me the war rages on.
And I almost start to cry.
In the middle of frickin' Kroger I am thisclose to bawling in frustration.
I had twooptions: 1. Ditch the cart and flee in tears. 2. Stay and fight.
I charged granny.
I'm not proud of it.
But I did it.
And she's okay.
But her Kmart handbag may never be the same...
disclaimer: No grannies were actually harmed in the making of this post. No children were either but it is the author's sole intention to note that the children from the market severely needed a "knot jerked in their tails" - whatever that means. The grocery bill came to : $98.99 in groceries, 1 saved dignity, 18 prayers for sterility and 1 near-fit of tears.