Day 3: Sept. 7, 2013
I love my grocery store. But if we were a married couple, my friends would be urging me to get a divorce. Its that I love the store for all the wrong reasons. I love it for the coffee bar. And the gelato bar. I love it because there's classical music blaring from the loud speakers. I love that I can rock out to a Mozart Symphony while picking out my macaroni and cheese in a box. I love it because the guys in the fish department explain to me what to do with the fish once I get it home. And the people at the check out counters tell me stories about their kids as mine are dripping vanilla steamer all over the conveyor belt.
And once I'm in there, I am dazzled by many useless items that nobody needs. Like very expensive goat milk soap that you can cut yourself with a soap cutter. And a million varieties of chocolate candies perched on surfaces of varying heights. It has an olive bar with mozzarella balls and marinated garlic cloves. By the time I am halfway around the store, I am in a trance, mesmerized by the mood lighting and the 55 varieties of nut butter on the shelves.
The problem is, when it comes to things that people actually need, like food, its pretty basic and way overpriced. I know this to be true, and I still go there. I am manipulated, lured, and used, but I keep going back. I don't know. I figure, we're all going to be dead and buried in the ground in the end, so why not enjoy my grocery shopping in the mean time? My husband wishes I would just get a divorce.
Anyway, this is not what I wanted to write about today. I wanted to write about how I hate the parking lot. And how I often park on a neighborhood street perched on a hill above the parking lot. There is a large stair case that leads from the street down to the lower level requiring a walk past some restaurants and a pet store with kitties in the window.
Very recently, I put my foot down about the grocery bags. I stopped buying them. But I have yet to remember to bring my own bag to the store. When I get to the check out, I think, hell, I'll buy a couple of bags this time, but find myself telling the bagger person to just put the stuff back in my cart with no bag. So then we get to the grand staircase and I give each of my kids an item to carry up. The three of us traipse up and down from the cart to the car until all the groceries are accounted for. Someone always passes by on their way down.
No coffee today. I will have it tomorrow, amen. And my husband said he declined a bag at both of the two stores he shopped at today.
Watercolor of the day: