Welcome to a day in my life, and maybe some of yours…..
I have all this guilt that is so embedded in my consciousness that every decision I make every day and almost every minute goes through the “guilt” filter. Just shopping is an exercise is ethics for me. I’m done with class, am on my way home and think I better pick up some groceries. We have nothing in the refrigerator except for beer, wine, salsa and lots of vanilla yogurt for some reason. I wonder where I should grocery shop. I really prefer to shop at places like Fresh Market, but their selection is limited and it’s so expensive. I decide on WalMart and happily think of all the money I will save.
WalMart isn’t too busy today and I actually look forward to checking out the new one in the neighboring town, figuring it will be shiny and new, which it is. Usually I hate grocery shopping so much that I would almost rather eat bread and water for a week than have to navigate the superstore with all the distracted shoppers and workers. Today, apparently being Valentine’s Day along with the novelty of the sun shining, must have inspired me. I turn into the parking lot and see two, yes two, parking places in front, near the “market” side of WalMart. This never happens, especially on a Saturday. Exhaling with relief, I check to make sure I have my keys as I exit my car (yes, I have locked my keys in the car in the past, though it’s been many years since it last happened) so checking to make sure my keys are in my pocket is important. Off to a good start I think.
I enter the store and see nice new shopping carts. I select one that has no garbage in it, since a few of them had fliers and other papers in them from some slobs who left the store without taking the time to throw out their shit. I head into the store and pass a stand that offers free disinfectant wipes to clean off the handles on the carts. Hmmmm, I think– probably should wipe down the handle. You never know what diabolical germ is lurking on its surface. Done with that, I sigh, and enter the produce department.
Wow, it all looks pretty decent in here. I see apples and immediately think of picking some up since my son loves apples. Oh oh. I bet they don’t have organic. I must make a major monumental decision, weighing the cost of these apples over the health of my family. If I give in to thriftiness, will I be bringing home latent toxins on the shiny blushed surfaces of these apples? My brain does that computerized cost/benefit analysis and I decide to take the risk and buy the conventionally grown apples. As I reach for the roma apple, I am conflicted again. What if these apples are grown outside of the U.S.? I’ve made a secret pledge with myself that I would never buy any foreign grown produce, since other countries sometimes use more pesticides and other God-awful chemicals that could deposit cancer into my child’s body. Luckily, I see on the label that they are grown in the USA! Hurray! This shopping thing is going pretty well.
I finish up in produce, pick up some heads of lettuce that someone else dropped on the floor by accident and I help a disabled lady in an electric scooter pick up the sticky buns she dropped on the floor. My, I am the good Samaritan today, I think. I meander through the cakes and dohnuts, rather disgusted at all of the fat that must be in them, and head over to the meat area.
Hmmm. Another problem. I really don’t like meat and seldom eat it. However, my family does eat meat, mostly chicken of course. Lord knows we shouldn’t eat beef too often since it could eventually kill us by clogging our arteries with its high saturated fat content. I recall that we recently had some great chili for the Superbowl (that I actually made, well sort of; it was from a package called, “Best Darn Chili,” and it is) and I had used buffalo meat in it. Of course this buffalo meat came from a health food store. I wonder if WalMart might actually have buffalo meat? Wouldn’t that be great! It’s so much healthier for you–negligible fat content. And it tastes just like beef. (I confess, meat-hater that I am, I actually ingested some when I had made the chili and it was pretty good, for meat.)
Back to the present moment. I move around the red meat section and see the butcher over the counter. I think of asking him if they carry buffalo meat. I decide not to. I don’t want him to think I’m some snobby suburban woman who has the audacity to flaunt the fact that she can afford to buy buffalo meat (it’s more expensive than beef) during the economic crisis we are now faced with. How insensitive of me that would be, I think, if I actually uttered that aloud. I really doubt they have it anyway.
So I move on. I look at the fresh chicken selections. I immediately snap up some fresh Purdue boneless, skinless chicken breasts because I know the chickens have not been injected with hormones. I wonder though, if I shouldn’t buy the ones that are individually pre-packaged? Those are so convenient to use. Then I won’t have to open up that slimy package of fresh chicken and separate them myself into baggies for storage in the freezer. Except all that extra packaging seems excessive. It will just end up in the land fill. Hmmm unless of course I can recycle it. I don’t think I can, though. Guess that means I should stick with the fresh chicken.
I turn my cart to leave the meat area, pick up some frozen tilapia on sale, and begin to tackle the aisles. I’m one of those shoppers who usually parks the cart in a location that doesn’t interfere with anyone else, and practically sprints down the aisle to grab the few items I know I need from that section. (It’s real funny when I shop with my mom or my aunt. They can’t leave that cart in no-man’s land. Without fail, when I take off down the aisle sans cart, they show up behind me with the cart. What’s the worst that could happen with the cart of groceries?!!) Today, though, feeling good so far about this shopping experience, I actually make the effort and take the cart with me down the aisle and carefully maneuver around the other shoppers and carts that I encounter. Not all of them are as careful. A youngish couple (20-somethings) almost crash into me as the boyfriend drives the cart around the corner with his girlfriend sitting on the cart; yes, she sat on the cart like a toddler. I almost start to swear in my head and grumble underneath my breath, thinking “dumb-shits”, but then I relax and think it’s kinda cute. They must be feeling the mood of Valentine’s Day.
I turn right towards the front of the store where the seasonal stuff usually is and hope there is still some chocolate left. You know, chocolate, good chocolate. Not that garbage that is mostly just sugar. I am relieved to see that Hershey has a very nice large red heart-shaped box of their “Pot of Gold” line of premium chocolates. I wonder if it will be expensive–maybe I shouldn’t splurge on this better quality chocolate? What’s wrong with Russell’s or those other brands that are cheaper? It’s under $7 and I decide it’s fine–just get it so I can get home to have breakfast and lunch. I’m looking forward to eating one of those apples in the car on the way home since I hadn’t had the chance to eat breakfast before school. It’s 3 in the afternoon, and I’m hungry.
I check out with hardly any wait-time, am real nice to the checkout lady and compliment her on her packing skills. She is quite an expert. I had a short-lived job in my youth as a checker and I sucked at it. I tell this to the lady and how that was before stores had scanners and everything had to be keyed in. I made lots of mistakes and would tick off customers. We agreed that people are mean about food.
After hauling all the white plastic bags (another stab of guilt; I had forgotten my re-usable sacks at home) into the trunk, I get situated behind the wheel and see in my rearview mirror that someone is already behind my car, waiting to take my premium parking place. Good for you, I think. I pluck the red apple that I had thrown in my bag after stowing away the groceries and begin wiping it on my jeans to clean off any residue, since I can’t wash it with water. I disregard any remote fear that this apple may have contaminates still on it and bite deeply into it. I’m starved and right now, it tastes great.
*For your benefit, I have decided against describing my remaining time shopping in WalMart, since it’s taken me 1,844 words to just describe about 30 minutes and I was in that store for over an hour! I don’t think you could take anymore! I guess you see my point about this being a day in the life of a crazy woman. Am I alone in this? Please tell me I am not the only obsessed crazy woman out there!
Happy Valentine’s Day!!
Confiding In You 