Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Image via Wikipedia

Grocery shopping,

I hate grocery shopping. Yes, I know it is a necessary evil and one that can't be avoided unless I eat out everyday, which is not about to happen. I had a simple grocery list: milk, eggs, onions, mushrooms, granola bars (yum), coffee and a broom to sweep off the balcony. Not much by grocery list standards.

So I timed myself. First stop, Aldi's. To get 3 gallons of milk, Larry is a milk fiend and only drinks whole milk (yuk), sugar, eggs, onions and mushrooms took me all of 10 minutes. Getting through the check-out line took me 35 minutes. Yep, 35 minutes of staring off into space wondering why they would only have one cashier with a line stretching around the store.

Even more annoying at Aldi's is the fact that you have to deposit a quarter to use the grocery cart and then have to pay for bags. I had forgotten my bags, so I ended up trying to squeeze everything into one bag I purchased. Seeing that as a futile attempt somewhat akin to putting a 300 lbs. body into a size 30 pair of pants, I decided to leave the milk "free range." Yes, I got the quarter back at the end of my tour, but it's just the idea that irks me.

Next I was off to Jewel's, which is accross town. Jewel's is the shopping market preferred by Larry, the room mate. God forbid I just go to Dominick's which is just down the street. (It's supposedly owned by the Mormons and we all know shopping there is going to implant some deep desire that we all take multiple wives and live in trailor compounds.) Actually I hate Jewel's. The way it is laid out makes absolutely no ryhme or reason. But there I was.

So I grab my cart and promptly get damned near run over by a speeding elderly gentleman who seems to be on a mission of great importance. Well, it's either of great importance or he's trying to out run his memory and gather everything needed before the Mrs. has a coronary. I head for the granola section, which you would think would be close to the cereals and breakfast bars. No such luck, it's in the potato chip aisle.

Anyway, it takes me 25 minutes just to grab o.j. (not the trial guy), granola bars, coffee (which is in the spice aisle), and a broom. Pretty fast until I hit the express checkout line. Ok, I am convinced that either Americans can't count or they can't read. Possbily both. In front of me was the same elderly man who was running the Indy 500 with his cart loaded with items. Yes, loaded. I'm not sure how he did what he did so fast, but damn that was some impressive shopping.

The cashier looks at him and then looks at the sign. A gesture totally lost as he gazes at her with an absolutely clueless face. So there I stand, reading the latest in gossip. 20 minutes later I'm heading out the door. By the time I got home it had taken me an 1.5 hours to do the little list.

Mind you, it's not the time, because frankly I have nothing but time. It's the idea of having to do battle and run the marathon everytime I go. And they say we come from a long line of hunters and gatherers. Maybe that's why I'm gay; my gene pool were more the "let's eat out" set.

Till our next shopping trip...