Dance to the Muszac

I have a knack for finding the interesting people wherever I go. I went to the grocery store and was standing at the deli, waiting my turn. The woman who was being helped had the cutest shoes on. I complimented her. I got the longest response that I have received in a long time. “Thank you so much! They are Danskins so they are supposed to last at least ten years. They are very comfortable and I keep getting them painted by the cobbler who says they show no signs of breaking down any time soon and they are 7 years old. I had no idea that they would look this good when they are this old.” Wow. I think that she hasn’t spoken to anyone in a while.

I had an uneventful trip around the store, filling up the cart. No one in my way. No one doing anything that annoyed me. Nothing. Phew.

I got to the point where I was trying to choose a checkout line. A man was trying to do the same thing. He was entertaining himself while he did the deciding. He was dancing the cha-cha to the music playing overhead. In normal times, I would have cut in and joined him, but it’s not easy to be lead from 6 feet away. I smiled at him, but he couldn’t tell because of my mask, I am sure. He suggested that I take lane 6, and he’d take lane 4. Worked for me!

I miss dancing with random people in the grocery store. Or Starbucks. Or the mall.

I Do ADHD Shopping

On a recent trip to the grocery store, I ran into an older woman and her son who were doing their shopping. Every time I entered a lane, there they were. The woman used her cart to block the majority of the aisle, and then would bend over to look at the bottom shelves, resulting in her rear end blocking the rest of the aisle. Her son, who was aware of what was going on, kept moving the cart so that others could pass. He occasionally asked his mom to move a bit so that others could get through.

After a few of these encounters, I skipped two aisles, hoping that I wouldn’t be in the aisle with them. Nope. They were in these aisles, too. I finished the main aisles and had to travel to produce. I mentioned to the man that I was going aaaaallllll the way over to produce, so I wouldn’t be in their way anymore. He laughed and apologized. He said they weren’t headed there, so I should be safe. The produce aisle was uneventful.

I went to the deli for the last leg of my shopping trip. There they were! In line in front of me. Again, she had the majority of the area blocked with the cart. I started chatting with the man. I told him that I found it funny that I even skipped over aisles and they were still there. He said it was because he does ADHD shopping. He forgets most of what he needed so he has to travel all over the store, covering the aisles multiple times. His mom finished at the deli and it was my turn. I finished and headed to check out.

The same two people were in line in front of me! Oh my goodness. I was waiting to unload my cart onto the belt and I could overhear the conversation in front of me. Her: “I can’t find my credit card. Oh! Here it is. Oh, why isn’t it working?” Him: “Mom, that’s your AAA card. They don’t take that here. Let me use my card.” Her: “Why do they take your AAA card, and not mine? Oh, wait, that’s because it’s not a credit card. Where is my credit card? Oh, in my pocket!” Him: “Mom, that’s your library card. I’ll pay and we’ll find your card later.”

I have done that so many times. They don’t take AAA cards. No library cards. No rewards cards from other stores. There isn’t anyone else standing there waiting to offer to pay, though.

I hope they find her credit card. They certainly entertained me in the grocery store. Entertainment outside of the house is hard to find these days.

The Favorite Customer

I was the last customer for one of the grocery store checkers, but I didn’t know it yet. He was dealing with the woman in front of me in the express lane. The lady was insisting that 14 food items and 20 bottles of wine counted as 15 items or less. Then she took forever getting her payment out, and insisted on bagging her groceries herself. With the six foot rule, it took forever.

Another checker came up behind me and closed the line and told me that the checker is off for the day after me. I told her I’m always a little off. She walked away laughing

When I got to the checker with my single bag of tomatoes, I told the checker that I was going to be his favorite customer of the day. He said “yes! The last one!” He got it! I was surprised. I only had a card with me, so I ended up charging $.62 on it, which annoyed me, but he took it with a smile. At least I made his day end on a positive note.

Do we need eggs? A.K.A. Schroedinger’s eggs

We have a shopping list app that most of the members of the household can add to from their own phone. This makes it both easier and more difficult for the shopper to get what we need. It’s harder because I find that the others who have access to the list change things while I’m at the store.

Also, I am shopping for three households most weeks, and eggs are limited by the grocery store. I can only get one carton of eggs per trip. If more than one household requests eggs, I have to decide who gets the carton.

Two grocery trips ago, I got eggs for one of the other households. When I got home, I mentioned that we didn’t get eggs this time and asked if we needed eggs. No real response.

Another household member took it upon herself to order from Whole Foods. Her order included eggs. When it arrived, one of my daughters complained that we have too many eggs. She said we had three full cartons of 18. The eggs ended up going to our neighbor who needed them.

I started thinking about how we might have ended up with three cartons of eggs. We looked. One box was empty. The other two were less than half full. 1)Who puts empty cartons back in the fridge? 2)Who starts a new carton before finishing the last? 3)Who doesn’t look in the carton before declaring that we don’t need them?

Answers, in order… 1) the empty carton was being saved for the cats to use as a scratching post. It was in the fridge so we knew where it was when we needed it. 2) the cook started a new carton because there weren’t enough eggs in the open carton for the recipe she was making. 3) the one who doesn’t like eggs didn’t want to look because it’s a Schroedinger’s egg thing. If she doesn’t look, she doesn’t know if it’s a live carton or a dead carton. Could be both. Could be either.

Moral of this one, is don’t ask the one who hates eggs if we need them.

I Am Not Buying Blueberries Anymore

Our refrigerator hates blueberries. It seems that no matter where we put the berries, they fall out when we take something else out. The container hits the floor and the berries roll away.

It doesn’t seem to matter who is opening the fridge or where we put the blueberries, they jump out and fall on the floor.

One day, coming back from a grocery store trip, a bag tipped over in the car. I waited until I got home and looked at what fell. Blueberries. Out of the container and all. I managed to pick them all up with minimal swearing. The family laughed because it always seems to be blueberries.

One recent event involved me taking stuff from the refrigerator and putting it in the freezer, which is a pull out drawer on the bottom. I pulled out the package of chicken thighs from the right side of the refrigerator to toss it into the open freezer drawer. Somehow it jostled the container of blueberries that were on the left side of the fridge and the container opened and sent blueberries into the freezer. They rested on the track for the drawer, so I couldn’t even ignore that they went in. I couldn’t pretend that I intended to make frozen blueberries.

I tried one more time. I bought a box at the grocery store. I got home and opened the car door. The groceries had shifted a little on the drive home. One bag fell out. One item fell out of that one bag. Blueberries. The box opened all over the street. Only the blueberries. Nothing else.

I am still screaming “I am not buying blueberries anymore!”

Good deal on cheap wine

I passed through the wine aisle on a recent shopping trip. I happened to look across the aisle from where I usually get my wine and I saw that it was $4.99 a bottle. Good deal!

I looked closer and found that if I got four or more, I would get 10% off. This brought the wine to $4.50 a bottle. Woohoo!

One of the bottles had a tag on it, telling me that if I got twelve bottles, I could get a rebate of up to $24. Even better!

I got twelve bottles, held on to the receipt and the tag and tried hard to remember to send it in before the due date.

Today, I pulled out the info to mail it in. The type was so tiny, I couldn’t read it. I tossed it on the photo copier and enlarged it. I needed it large enough to read the mailing address. Got that, so I addressed the envelope. Then I started reading the instructions. Send original receipt with purchase price circled. Check! Fill out form on back of tag. Check! Address the envelope. Check! Send original UPC from each bottle’s label. Ummm. Ok. There’s a project.

In the instructions, it says to soak each bottle to remove the UPC carefully. Each bottle must be soaked in hot tap water for 10-15 minutes, and full bottles can’t be soaked. So, am I supposed to drink 12 bottles of wine by the due date on the rebate?

When I started investigating the removal of the UPC, I found that the label comes off rather easily. I quickly managed to get 6 labels off before I became bored. I counted the rest of the bottles and found that I had 11. I know there were 12 on the receipt.

I did a search for #12 and finally located it in the kitchen. I pulled its UPC off and stuck it in the envelope. I will finish up the last five tomorrow and pop it into the mailbox.

There were a lot of hoops to jump through on this one, but I think I have done everything they’ve asked of me. If any of you get a gift of a bottle of wine from me, ignore the missing UPC on the label. It was an expensive bottle. Trust me.