Disgruntled Shopping

Every couple of years, I visit the grocery store and throw a little internal fit.

This year's fit took place last week.  I was annoyed that there was no baby/parent parking for those of us with babies in the 91st percentile for weight and that jalapenos were only available in plastic packs of assorted peppers and that the produce was all from Spain and cost a billion dollars when we live in an area that grows tons of fruit and vegetables.

I walked past the ice cream and noticed that it was on sale for $4.99.  I read ALL the grocery store fliers and write down the best deals every week, so I happened to know that that same ice cream was on sale across town for $2.99 and that it had been on sale at the store I was in the week before for $2.99.  For some reason, this irritated me a great deal.  Stinkin' grocery store calling ice cream on 'sale' for more than they charged the week before.  I wasn't even buying ice cream but I decided that the grocery store was my enemy for trying to pull a fast one on me in the freezer section.

I rolled up to the checkout and I placed my cloth bag at the front of my groceries so the checkout clerk would know I didn't want her to use plastic bags, and the checkout clerk picked that bag up and tossed it down to the end of the checkout area so I could bag my groceries myself.  She maybe didn't realize that I was pushing a ticking time bomb of a baby in the cart (t-minus 4 minutes to meltdown) and that I could either get out my money and pay for the groceries or I could bag the groceries, but if I had to do both, the baby bomb would explode IN the store rather than in the car (wailing all the way home is the new falling asleep peacefully in the soothing motor vehicle).

I need a farm.  And a co-op.  And an anger management course.