Have I mentioned I hate shopping? Really. The only time it's enjoyable is when I'm alone -- except when I'm with my daughter. And even then I can only stand a couple of hours. After that I turn into a . . . Well, anyway, I particularly hate grocery shopping. But something happened a few weeks ago that, at least, made it a bit more interesting.
It was just before the last big snow storm we were supposed to have. RL was out of town (big surprise) and Brandi's rarely at home , so I just needed a few things to get me through the weekend. You know, canned soup, bread, milk, lots of munchies. Oh, and coffee! Had to get coffee.
Everyone in town was expecting the worst, so the store was hit hard. Nearly all the produce was gone; there weren't any canned tomatoes; and the only canned soup that was left was the healthy stuff, which was alright, because that's what I wanted anyway.
So, I'm walking down the canned soup aisle, trying to decide which tasty low sodium healthy soups I wanted and this guy wheels his cart up beside mine and says, "Looks like they got hit pretty hard." Well, yeah, it was kind of a shock to see the shelves mostly bare. And the fact that some stranger was mentioning it to me didn't seem that unusual, because people tend to get a little friendlier in times of pending disaster. (Ok, it wasn't that bad, but you know what I mean.)
I said something quite clever like, "Yeah, not much left, huh?" Because, you know, I'm so clever like that. We continued this clever conversation for about another excruciating 30 seconds and then I went on with my picking and choosing. Then I headed to the coffee aisle. (CanNOT forget the coffee!!)
Seems this guy that was worried about the lack of can goods remaining in the store also needed coffee. That or he was following me. I didn't really want to think about that and tried not to let it show that I was a little unnerved that he was, once again, on the same aisle with me. I picked up the two pound canister of Folgers 1/2 Caff (because I'm cutting down on caffeine) and placed it in my cart. The guy was standing right next to me with his cart headed in the opposite direction and was talking about I don't know what. All I'm thinking about is how do I get away from him without just coming right out and saying, "Get the hell away from me, you freak!"
Turns out I have this nervous little habit that seemed to really turn him off. Before I knew what was happening he was gone. I just stood there thinking, "Dang! What did I say?" And then I realized I was spinning my wedding ring around my finger.
Ha! I'll have to remember that!!