I suppose it had to happen sooner or later so I resigned myself to my rightful destiny and wear the title proudly. At the moment I am still waiting for my crown, scepter and cloven-hoofed feet to arrive...
For reasons unknown (I decided not to ask for fear that I would receive an answer) Sea Squirt has recently decided that it would be "fun" to go grocery shopping with me. Keep in mind that in the 7 years that we have been together he has never accompanied me into a grocery store to do the weekly shopping or as I refer to it, my sojourn into hell. I do not know where his decision came from but I can only surmise that it is linked to some form of recent blunt head trauma. Once the shock of his announcement wore off and I had a chance to think about it I actually thought that it could be a good thing. After all I could plant him at the end of an aisle to guard the cart (with an end cap of bright shiny objects to keep him occupied) while I ran the gauntlet of stupid shoppers, screaming children and cell-phoners on foot to grab the single jar of marinated artichokes from the far end of the aisle that I needed without having to maneuver the cart through the log jam. Please, don't ask me what I was thinking.
So, off to Woodman's we go. With me on a mission and him completely lost at sea. Just so you know, when I go shopping I have a plan. And a routine. I have been shopping at Woodman's for 16 years and I know the place like the back of my hand. My shopping list is organized by the aisle. I am also armed with my recycled shopping bags, a pen, a calculator, a stack of coupons and more attitude than one human should ever be legally allowed to have. Sea Squirt, however, was not so prepared. Did he offer to push the cart? No. Did he offer to manage the list? No. Did he work the calculator? No. The coupons? No. What did he do? Tope me at every opportunity and get smacked in the face with sticker shock:
"Honey, is butter always this expensive?"
"Yes, dear."
"Honey, does orange juice always cost this much?"
"Yes, dear."
"Honey, is peanut butter really $5.49 a jar?"
"Yes, dear."
"Honey, how come cookies cost this much?"
"Yes, dear." As my eyes glazed over.
Did I neglect to mention that we had gone shopping on a Tuesday? Tuesday is "Senior Day" at Woodman's. Don't ask me why, it just is. And they don't even offer any senior discounts. But the store is always a sea of little blue hairs with their totally disinterested retired husbands in tow who are always just totally lost in the whole adventure. It was also apparently a school holiday of some sort because every child in the free world was there with mom. All of them kicking, screaming, running, tearing into boxes of cereal or just wandering around in their pajamas. Yes, their pajamas. WTF??? Log jam!!!
So, we turn into the ethnic aisle and it's just a cluster-fuck of confused gringos blocking the entire aisle. I groaned. Then I barked. Then I got ugly. I loudly announced "Comin' through! Comin' through! Old guy with cancer! Clock is running! Comin' through!" and launched the cart into the fray with no concern for the casualties that might ensue. When I finally made it to the section that I needed I found it blocked by Edna and Earl. Edna was 112 if she was a day and was having difficulty seeing over the handle of their cart and Earl, who was about 115, had come to a screeching halt directly in front of her and was staring straight up, scratching his head totally confused by the pinatas. This did not amuse me at all because they were blocking my access to the Maria's, the cajeta and the Crema Media. I was close to exploding and I turned around to let Sea Squirt know that I was going to kill them. What do I find? Sea Squirt pointing up and asking me if we can buy a pinata!!! OMG. I had my own personal Earl!!!
For seven years Sea Squirt has heard me bitch like crazy when I get home from shopping, complain about the brain dead people that block aisles and gets a play by play of who I cussed out and who I decided to play "secret shopper" to. He always thought I was kidding. He now knows better. He has heard me tell a 5-year old to shut the fuck up, seen me toss expensive weird shit into other peoples carts just to piss them off after they get home (this last trip the recipient got 3 jars of saffron, total value $58.00), ram someone on a cell phone with my cart and has experienced me letting loose with that "noise from the back of the cave" sound that I learned from my mother when the lady blocking the aisle in front of me thought it would be a good idea to let little Jimmy take his damned sweet time deciding which size box of Coco-Puffs he wanted. He is amazed that I have not had security called on me or at the very least been punched out a time or two. I explained to him that as long as I don't touch them then they have to make the first move and that keeps me in the enviable position of being able to claim that I am the innocent victim of shopping-rage and elder abuse. That, coupled with my amazing ability of have nose bleeds on command should pretty much cover all of my bases...
When we go shopping next week I am going to use one of those motorized carts, wear my sunglasses, pretend to be blind, run the cart into every end cap of stacked canned goods I can find, have Sea Squirt follow me around the store and every time he asks me a question I'm going to look in the other direction and scream "I DON"T LIKE CHEESE!!! IT BLOCKS ME UP!!!". I should be back to shopping on my own before the end of the month. :-)
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