I’m the go to guy here for supermarket shopping in bad weather. We’ve got one about three miles away, which is convenient though it’s also for old people, and we are old people, but we don’t always want the miniature box of Cheezits, the demi-can of Campbell’s soup, the fat free bacon, the three pack of eggs, the limitation to one stick of butter, or the 3/4 pound roaster chicken. But at least they don’t card us for the giant megapack of Mucinex.
Anyway, we agreed last night when the wind chill was –3 Fahrenheit that what we needed was a tummy warming tuna casserole. I said we should plan ahead and also prepare for a subsequent hamburger stroganoff. (Yes we are gourmands, New Jersey style). So today I headed out for the Incollingo’s market with the following list.
For once, everything went swimmingly, except for the other oldsters who block aisles contemplating which combination of salt-free, fat-free junk food they want to put in their carts. And the weird scruffy looking people with no store badges performing some sort of sweep out the lower shelves ritual while sprawled across the floor with legs akimbo. I used the senior klaxon horn on my cart to clear the way.
Burned right through the list, which, as usual, was in no particular order regarding the organization of the store. But I have one of those extraordinary minds. Kind of like Charlie in Numb3rs, I can reconcile the list with my memory of the store and pick off the items with extraordinary speed and efficiency while navigating a sensible and linear route through the aisles.
I was out of there in 20 minutes. I even got the greatest supermarket cashier of all time, who knew immediately I wanted the cold stuff in one bag and I wanted everything in paper AND plastic. Not only that. I managed to snag a pint of sour cream for the hamburger stroganoff and two cans of Bean with Bacon Campbell’s soup which my wife had told me was no longer available, neither of which products were on her list.
Upon my triumphant return I put away the cold items while my better half put away the pantry items. As I prepared to return upstairs, she said, “Maybe I missed it. Where is the tuna?”
I don’t know how it goes in your house. She looked at my face and started laughing. Then I started laughing. There’s no explanation and no excuse. It’s just funny.
So I’ll be making hamburger stroganoff tonight. And after I return with a solitary mission to Incollingo’s tomorrow, we’ll have tuna casserole.