Store of Horror

I get it. Part of me can visualize how regular folk might behave and feel. I can think it through…and through and over and over…and kinda think I’m ready to “survive regular life” like everyone else. I know what should be relatively easy, I know when I’m overreacting. BUT….then I head out into the cold brutality of reality. I’m like a freshly scraped knee peddling a rusted up bike with a horn that honks spontaneously and reflectors that only reflect when I want to hide.

Today I went grocery shopping. That’s a pretty basic thing to do, but to me, it’s a pretty major event. I have to be feeling “up” to being in a chaotic mess of people and choices. I study my list and I’m off.

Started out OK. Stared at 1900 shades of brown and finally settled on 2 to blend. I can’t believe they don’t make a shade I want. Why do I think a bit of this and a bit of that will make the shade I want? I can’t believe after 22 years of colouring my hair, I finally need to.

I move on, I see people requiring assistance and though I’d rather not get involved for fear of them not needing my help and being irritated with me, my need to help overrides it. “Do you need some help?” I stretch for the yogurt at the far back just beyond their reach. A small voice thanks me and I feel satisfied with the result but as I turn I hear “oh, it’s got the cereal in it, that’s not what I want” UH OHHHHH…now what…do I turn around from ice cream and see if I can do more? Will that make me a goody goody? Do I move on? Will anyone else care about her getting the right yougurt? Will she leave without yogurt and really wish she had her favourite later? Will she see my face everytime she chokes back the awful cereal yogurt. Will she wish I’d minded my own business?? By the time the questions run through my head the moment has passed and I’m on the go again. I pass her a few aisles down and I’m pretty sure she sneered at me. Or maybe she had something in her nose. I will never know if I did too much or too little. UGHHH

Ok, main reason to be in the giant store of horror, Poppycock. Every year at this time I buy it, keep it all to myself and enjoy every last bit. AND it’s on sale!!! Find the aisle. Find the section, find the itty bitty space reserved for HUGE CANS OF POPPYCOCK…and it’s empty!!! Of course it’s empty, they couldn’t have had more than 4 cans in this tiny space? Who does this?? Who puts on a sale of Poppycock, and gets like 4 cans for an entire city?? It’s almost December!! There’s not much time left in the season for me to find and devour Poppycock. I feel like I’m back in my brother’s room for his “sale”. It was advertised with a big sign on his door. It was set up on his desk….I brought my life savings. He sold me an old busted pen without ink and I left with no money. I’m SICK. I feel hot, and stuffy. I might be getting the flu. Ok deep breath. I am, in fact, a grown up. PFFFT. I feel more like a 7 year old. I want to scream at someone “where’s the fucking poppycock???” “It’s $7.98, regular $9.98, I want 2!!” “I am in this HUGE grocery store of lights, people, odours and chaos for 2 cans of Poppycock that isn’t here!!” “HELP ME…PLEEEAAASSSEEE …someone…anyone….HELPPPPPPP” That sounds a touch dramatic but if I actually said what I felt it would be much, much, more heinous.

Well whatever, why the hell am I even here. I’m so annoyed. So I go on, instantly full of ICK and annoyance. I can’t think anymore and I’m tired. I kinda just want to leave but then I’d likely never dye my roots. Head down the pasta aisle…should be safe. As I turn the corner a man whizzes out in front of me holding a sub sandwich. I thought hey, I wish I felt comfortable enough to eat while out and about, and did one of my well thought out smiles that signals to the man that I approve of him horking down a sandwich while in public. Then it hit. Onions. The disgusting stench of sub sandwich onions. Are you kidding me??? My friendly smile and brow crinkle in horror. As I hold my breath, I charge as fast as I can through the mucky cloud of stench wafting through the store and I am suddenly grateful for the overpowering scent balls I doused my laundry in. How can anyone do this?? Were you not thinking when you ordered onions on a sandwich to eat while shopping?? I peeked down the next aisle…no good…he’s been there. I must now skip cereal all together. If my son has no honeycombs this week, it’s the onion sandwich guys fault.

I gotta get outta here. Checkout. Unload. Realize I forgot my purse. 3 strikes. I’ll need a week to recover. I race out to my parking spot far enough away to get me huffing and puffing and looking like a lunatic. I’m so fast I’m back before anyone wonders who is buying 2 such similar shades of brown hair colour. Bag up my stuff like a Gumby with mitten hands. Why can I not bag as fast as everyone else. Why does my stuff stick out awkwardly and why do I stack up everything so that inevitably something falls out while I return to my vehicle. Ram my cart back into it’s spot so I can retrieve my buck…I’m safe.

Until next time……

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