I know you are all hoping for another story of Bill’s Bowels (the name of his next stand up album… it’s very moving), but unfortunately for us all, he is off scuba diving, or boating, or exploring Mayan ruins, or napping in a hammock. Probably napping in a hammock.
So instead, let’s talk about something a little closer to home. Home-making.
I went grocery shopping for the first time in about a year. I mean, I’ve gone out for eggs a couple times, or to get the right salsa for the party I’m throwing. But as for going to the store to purchase food because we’re out, it’s been over a year.
I dropped Jared off yesterday for his state testing, and had a couple hours for grocery shopping. I got to the grocery store, grabbed a cart with the mandatory stuck wheel, and headed into the grocery store. The doors opened, and there I was, standing in the produce aisle, with no idea what to do next.
I mean, okay. I have the basics down. You select an item, put it in your cart, and go. But there were so many items! When I’m home, and I want an apple, I go to the fruit bowl and grab one of three apples sitting in the bowl. Here, there were so MANY apples. It was up to me to pick the right apples for my household. And then I realized, I don’t know what kind of apples my family eats! I know that they’re green. Green apples. But the green apples I find all have different apple names… granny smith, something that starts with a c, something else that rhymes with shire or empire…
I am completely out of my element. I have already been defeated by green apples.
Curse you and your potential deliciousness!!!
I grab a bag of carrots and a couple bananas for the boy, and head to the bulk foods area. Like Luke Skywalker daydreaming about Jedi mentors, I remember Bill saying something about how rice can sometimes cost less in a box rather than the bulk dispenser. Or was it the other way around? I can’t remember. I’m unclear which was what, but the bulk rice is right in front of me, which probably makes it a trap, but on the flip side, I’m already starting to lose my grip on what’s true and what’s not, so I grab a bag and go to the dispenser for long, white rice. I try to flip the dispenser thing, and it moves, and a little rice comes out. Not a lot. Just about a table spoon. I try to open it more, but I just get another tablespoon. I shake it, and get another tablespoon.
Awe, nuts.
My family eats a LOT of rice. It’d probably be smarter for me to stop and go grab a box of rice, but I’ve already started getting bulk rice, and if I stop now, what do I do with the bag, and damnit, I’ve now been presented with a challenge that I must over-come!!! So tablespoon by table spoon and 10 minutes later, I have a bag full of rice.
I remember that we need toilet paper because my but is still sore from the paper towel I had to use that morning, and go to grab a bag. I stop. Last time I ran out to get TP, I brought back the wrong brand. Bill had told me that the kind I got was made by a company that supports the slaughter of African children to make sports drinks or some such. But I can’t remember which brand it was, and I feel awful because I know Bill told me once, and if I pick wrong, slaughtered African children. On the flip side, my butt still hurts, so I pick up the one that says quilted. Hopefully the African children’s parents can forgive me. I know my butt does.
Eventually, I get what I think is an appropriate amount of food. Some of it I remember, like “Hey- frozen broccoli! I’ve seen that in the freezer!” Other items are things I think would be nice to have in the pantry, like crackers and rice cakes and other things Bill never buys. And head to the check out.
I get to the self check out and start scanning items. At first it’s fun, like playing grocery store when your a kid. but then the machine beeps at me, and an attendant comes over and asks what I did. I have no idea. I put a thing in a bag after I scanned it. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? That’s how I always played grocery before.
She scans her card and let’s me continue. 30 seconds later, she’s back again, and I’m preemptively saying “I put a paper bag on the counter! I’m sorry!” This continues for 5 minutes. I feel awful, like everyone’s staring at the newbie who can’t even use a self check out, like they’re wondering how I put my own closthes on in the morning. The attendant lady is very encouraging every time she comes by to swipe her card and punch in numbers. “you’re doing great! You’re almost done!” Which simultaneously made me feel better and patronized at the same time.
I finish the check out, get the food into the car, pick up Jared, and get home. Jared mentions that I forgot pickles, and I start openly weeping in front of my child, who tells me it’s okay, that I did a good job, and that we can get pickles later.
Bill, come home. We miss you.
