You would think I would know better by now.  I've been a housewife for almost five years.  You think in those five years I'd have learned.

Do not go grocery shopping, on the day the week's sales start at 5PM.  Just don't do it.  Why?

1) The store will be packed.
2) They won't have half of the sales items on the shelfs.
3) Those they do have will scan wrong.
4) After work shoppers are mean.
5) They do not have enough baggers working.

I know this, I do.  I am just stupid, some weeks, and go without thinking.  I needed to pick up a couple of things for Dad and a few things for us.  A roast for dinner, some potatoes, pasta, cheese, and bread.

The first sign that I should have stayed home was the fog.  There was no fog at all, until I got dressed and headed out the door.  It was waiting for me, I swung open the front door and bam.  You couldn't see 10 feet in front of you.  

I trudged on.  Got in the car, lit a cigarette and drove off.  I took it slow, since I couldn't see a damn thing and the morons around here don't think to actually turn on those decorative lamps on the front of their cars.  No, not them.  That would make sense.  Let's drive a 2 ton piece of steel (well, fiberglass, anymore) around with our eyes closed.  

The parking lot of the store was crammed.  It is not a large parking lot, in fact it's fairly small, but it is only a local Mom and Pop grocery store.  7 aisles, short ones, a produce department and deli.  That's the full extent of the store. I lucked out, pulling in as someone at the front was leaving.  I grabbed my wallet and my cane and headed inside.  

I settled into the electric cart, my normal mode of transport when Tony's not with me to push my wheelchair.  And waited 5 minutes before the idiots that were scratching their asses moved enough for me to get out of the hidey hole where the gimp cart lives.

Down the first aisle, grabbed the bottle of soda, and towards the deli.  All I needed was 8 ounces of cheese.  No big deal, it's really not that damn hard.  Except it was.  10 minutes, with no one in front of me, to get someone to slice off that tiny bit of cheese.  I mean, yeah, I'm low down, since I'm the queen gimp, but damn, a big woman like me in a bright red shirt is not that hard to see.  The woman sliced one piece of to show me.  By that point I didn't care how thick or thin it was, hell, whack off 8 ounces with a dull knife, throw it in a bag, and price it.

Then again, people standing there, like there is nothing better to do than stare at their shoes.  I waited, then cleared my throat.  The sea of duh, parted.  Maybe I should get a damn air horn.  A big one that shatters ear drums, people will notice me then.  And get the hell out of my way.

Down the next aisle, one can of hot dog chili for the parents in the cart, couple boxes of pasta (vermicilli, rotini, spaghetti) tossed to the side.  Back to the meat, where the people are standing 3 deep and staring at the chicken, beef, and pork like they are some sort of alien autopsy, instead of the same things that are there every week.  You have roasts, steaks, ground beef, pork chops, chicken, both with and without bone.  That's about it.  Grab and go, damnit.

Around the corner to produce, I grab my potatoes, look back towards the meat counter, they are still standing there.  Off and around, cheese, bread, sour cream. And then I'm stuck again.  People in front and behind of me, not moving, hell, barely breathing.  I give up and rearrange my cart, while they sound out the words "all purpose flour."  I get all the parents' stuff to one side, mine on the other sorted according to where it goes when I get home.  I'm still stuck.

Finally an opening, I make a break for it.  I almost clip a Grandmotherly looking lady, but I am bad ass, I turn on a dime, miss her by a hair and I'm gone.  T

Again, to the meat section, aha, there's a break at the roasts.  I slide in and look down.  Beef that 3 months ago, would have gone for 1.49 a pound is now 2.99 a pound on sale.  If beef prices don't go down soon, we'll be eating pasta 7 days a week.  Beef, even ground beef, will be saved for birthdays and anniversaries.  Hell, maybe we'll become vegetarians.  Ha, not likely, Tony would cry and wail and gnash his teeth.  And I would starve to death.  But, that's a story for another day.

I grab a small roast, a 2 pounder, refusing to look at the price tag.  I want a roast and I will have one.  Even if I have to promise the cashier my first born.  A few feet down, a small chicken lands in the cart.  All the groceries are here, I can leave this human zoo.  

I'm home free.

Other than the fact that I'm at the far end of the store and I have to negotiate back through all the chimps to get to the registers.  The registers where the people are standing in line four and five deep.  I choose my line, young cashier, she seems to be moving fast, not too big of a line.  Then, then, a check writer.

Yeah, one of those.  She can't bother to start the check while her $200 worth of groceries are being rung up.  Oh, no, that would save a minute or two.  She has to wait until everything is scanned and almost all bagged, then, only then can she bother to pull out her checkbook, find a pen, oops, gotta find one that works, and start the labourious process of filing out a couple of lines of data.

Bored, tired, wishing I was home, I glance over the magazine rack, willing something good to appear, instead I grab one of those 99 cent recipe books, glance through it and put it back in disgust.  Every recipe in the whole book involves combining canned soup with various other frozen ingredients.  I can find a million of those recipes online in 2 minutes.

The cashier scans me through, only 1 thing scans wrong this time, we get it corrected.  Groceries are bagged, by the one bagger who actually realizes I have the groceries presorted into categories.   A 17 year old boy, blond clipped short hair, a cute smile, and always a kind word.  He loads my bags into a seperate cart and takes them out for me.  He's the best thing about the trip, always helpful, with a smile and a conversation.  This is why I go to this store more than the other grocery in town.  The baggers at the big corporate store tend to be rude and roll their eyes at helping anyone out to their car.  You know, like it might hurt them to lift a couple bags into a car for a costumer.  

Now here I sit, the groceries are away, food is in the oven.  The potatoes are baking, the roast is well, roasting.  The chicken is in the fridge for another time.  I think I've learned my lesson.  No more Wednesday evening grocery shopping.

It's time to check my roast, it should be about ready.  Have a great evening.  

What's for dinner at your house?  Tell me in the comments.

Suzy Smith