Earl announced this morning that it was time to embark on my second most disliked household chore. It was time to grocery shopping. I countered that we could probably put it off another day if he didn’t mind tomato soup made out of ketchup or spaghetti made with barbecue sauce but he said no, it was time to stock the cupboards.
At least I tried.
One of the reasons I dislike grocery shopping so much is because all the stores in this area have turned into these gigundous behemoths that are doing their best to resemble a warehouse. If I wanted to go a warehouse to shop, I’d head to BJ’s where we can buy everything in the outrageous size and not be able to fit it in the car, which results in having to hook the barrel of kitty litter up to the hitch on the Jeep and drag it home. That in itself is a pain in the ass so I avoid that place like the plague.
I’ve often raved about my beloved Wegmans, but they’re 50 miles away and after you get through the food court and the produce, it’s just as boring and tedious as the lesser markets.
I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want to shop in a grocery store that doesn’t require bus service to get from produce to dairy. I know this sounds crazy, but I like to be able to see all four sides of the store. It’s not like there’s something promised somewhere over the rainbow as I gaze in search of the deli department; I already know that I’m going to find a surly deli clerk named Wilma who won’t serve me until my number pops up and then she’ll slice the turkey wrong.
And then we have this whole coffee and cell phone thing going on. Since when did grocery shopping require a cup of ridiculously expensive coffee in one hand and a cell phone, complete with annoying conversation, in the other? I once tracked a woman who was yakking on her cell phone and sipping her mocha chocha choo choo lite lite latte through the store. She whacked her cart into several people, bought food loaded with sodium and emblazened with promises of convenience, paid with an AmEx card in the 20 items or fewer/cash only lane and then went out to her SUV parked at an angle to avoid any dents in the doors.
Bitch.
Now I’m not looking for a grocery store like we went to when I was a kid; that was an old Mom and Pop store with a cashier named Ruth who’d been there for no less than 105 years. They couldn’t afford bags so they grabbed a discarded box from the storeroom and plunked your groceries in there. Meat was wrapped in paper and priced with a grease pencil. It was homey, but probably a little outdated for my tastes. No, I’m looking for a regular grocery store. Food. Dry Goods. That’s it. No pharmacy. No florist. No McDonalds. No televisions. No gimmicks. No coffee.
A few Green Stamps would be nice as well.
