Have you ever had one of those days where you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole?
That's how I feel every time I go grocery shopping. I hate grocery shopping. It is an ordeal for me that I would rather forego indefinitely, but well, we have to eat.
I am one of those people that doesn't like to go to every store in the area looking for the best deals. I guess I'm lazy, but considering my aborrhence of it in the first place, I also don't feel I have the time or patience for it.
Therefore, I am thankful for the one place that has everything. Wal-Mart. The one stop shop. I had procrastinated about grocery shopping until I had run out of everything but yesterday, I felt the need to visit the store in order to feed my hungry, little ones.
I decided a long time ago that to save the most money and stay away from the store as long as possible, I would shop every two weeks and get everything I could in order to survive during those two weeks.
I also decided NOT to bring my boys. When I do bring them, they usually make a spectacle of all of us, so I tend to prefer going shopping alone. As our family kept growing, over the years our cart began to fill till now it is overflowing.
When my oldest son decides to help his poor mother, we have two carts. We have gotten comments like, "Wow, it's like a train!" and I would just smile and give my customary, kind laugh all the while feeling my face heat and wanting to revert to my childish days and say, "Oh, shut up!"
Well, yesterday I was alone since I had forgotten to wrangle my son into helping me. So, I ended up with an overflowing cart before I had even finished shopping. During my agonizing trip through the store enduring stares from strange people, I realize that one of my gallons of milk is leaking.
I decide to ignore it and hope that no one else notices. Of course, being the most noticeable person in the store, two women noticed and brought it to my attention. I look down as if I hadn't seen it before, say thank you, and move it to a more appropriate spot in my cart.
By this time, I feel like I'm being suffocated by my coat and I start to chant to myself, "I'm almost done" while pushing the now very heavy cart around the last of the aisles.
I realize that I had forgotten some important items on my list, so I had to push my monstrosity all the way back to find them before I could finally get to the cash register. When I got there, the woman asks in a very loud voice, "Did you leave any food in the store for everyone else?"
I give a smile and a little laugh, but before I could comment, she says, "No. Really. Are you sure you left anything?" That's when I wanted to flip her off. She then asks a friend of hers that she was chatting with to go get another cart. Great. Now I have two carts to get to the van.
When I finally get everything onto the conveyor belt, she asks, "How many people do you have to feed anyway?" I tell her I have four boys. She says, "Wow! That explains the amount of milk you just bought!"
After that, she rings up my bill and when she sees how much I owe, she says, "Wow!" again. As I'm paying her, she asks if I need any help getting out to the car and I mentally say, "Yes!" I also think that I don't want a pimply, teenage boy observing my backside while following me to my car, so I graciously say, "No, thanks."
As I'm moving my two carts out of the store, I'm chanting to myself, "Get me out of here!" I finally make it to the doors without anything falling off the cart (which has happened over and over) and the freezing tundra that I usually despise came as a welcome relief.
I shove all the groceries into the van as fast as I could, sped home, and made my boys put the groceries away. I'm so bad.
Previously published on January 23, 2007.
That's how I feel every time I go grocery shopping. I hate grocery shopping. It is an ordeal for me that I would rather forego indefinitely, but well, we have to eat.
I am one of those people that doesn't like to go to every store in the area looking for the best deals. I guess I'm lazy, but considering my aborrhence of it in the first place, I also don't feel I have the time or patience for it.
Therefore, I am thankful for the one place that has everything. Wal-Mart. The one stop shop. I had procrastinated about grocery shopping until I had run out of everything but yesterday, I felt the need to visit the store in order to feed my hungry, little ones.
I decided a long time ago that to save the most money and stay away from the store as long as possible, I would shop every two weeks and get everything I could in order to survive during those two weeks.
I also decided NOT to bring my boys. When I do bring them, they usually make a spectacle of all of us, so I tend to prefer going shopping alone. As our family kept growing, over the years our cart began to fill till now it is overflowing.
When my oldest son decides to help his poor mother, we have two carts. We have gotten comments like, "Wow, it's like a train!" and I would just smile and give my customary, kind laugh all the while feeling my face heat and wanting to revert to my childish days and say, "Oh, shut up!"
Well, yesterday I was alone since I had forgotten to wrangle my son into helping me. So, I ended up with an overflowing cart before I had even finished shopping. During my agonizing trip through the store enduring stares from strange people, I realize that one of my gallons of milk is leaking.
I decide to ignore it and hope that no one else notices. Of course, being the most noticeable person in the store, two women noticed and brought it to my attention. I look down as if I hadn't seen it before, say thank you, and move it to a more appropriate spot in my cart.
By this time, I feel like I'm being suffocated by my coat and I start to chant to myself, "I'm almost done" while pushing the now very heavy cart around the last of the aisles.
I realize that I had forgotten some important items on my list, so I had to push my monstrosity all the way back to find them before I could finally get to the cash register. When I got there, the woman asks in a very loud voice, "Did you leave any food in the store for everyone else?"
I give a smile and a little laugh, but before I could comment, she says, "No. Really. Are you sure you left anything?" That's when I wanted to flip her off. She then asks a friend of hers that she was chatting with to go get another cart. Great. Now I have two carts to get to the van.
When I finally get everything onto the conveyor belt, she asks, "How many people do you have to feed anyway?" I tell her I have four boys. She says, "Wow! That explains the amount of milk you just bought!"
After that, she rings up my bill and when she sees how much I owe, she says, "Wow!" again. As I'm paying her, she asks if I need any help getting out to the car and I mentally say, "Yes!" I also think that I don't want a pimply, teenage boy observing my backside while following me to my car, so I graciously say, "No, thanks."
As I'm moving my two carts out of the store, I'm chanting to myself, "Get me out of here!" I finally make it to the doors without anything falling off the cart (which has happened over and over) and the freezing tundra that I usually despise came as a welcome relief.
I shove all the groceries into the van as fast as I could, sped home, and made my boys put the groceries away. I'm so bad.
Previously published on January 23, 2007.
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