Going grocery shopping with me must be like going to a freak show. I am very, very particular about so many things when I shop. First off, I have to drive my vehicle. I favor my 16yo Suburban over our 4yo extended cab truck. The truck has those weird opening doors that make it impossible to unload the groceries out of the cart without opening and closing the door each time. The only time it works is when there isn't a car parked next to the truck. When is there never a car parked next to you at Wal-Mart? And not everything fits in the truck, so then I have to haul things up and over the sides of the truck to put them in the bed. Of course, they have to be the heavy things so they don't blow out. I think I need to do a little more strength training before I do too much of this.
My grocery list has to be on a clipboard. Yes, this makes me the biggest nerd in the store. But how else can you cross things off the list without poking holes in the paper or crumpling up the whole list? And when my printer has ink, I print out a paper that has each aisle listed so I can make my list in the order that I traverse the store.
I also have a certain order that the groceries go on the conveyor belt: heavy items like milk and pop first, all cans next, cold food after that, boxes next, then bags, produce, bread and eggs. It took several times of shopping with me before The Hubster got it right. Those were some interesting conversations.
I like how everything fits on the conveyor belt until I get towards the end. I have to admit I get a little tense when I can't fit things like the produce and odds and ends neatly on the belt. When things start sliding around, my stress level starts to climb.
Putting them back in the cart once they're bagged is another thing that has to be just so. Today there was a checker waiting to take over so the one working could take a break. She grabbed a few sacks and put them in my cart once they were full. I know she was only trying to help. Really I do. I was so glad when she stopped after two. Otherwise, how could I rearrange my basket without being rude?
So if you ever stop at a Wal-Mart in Oklahoma and see some crazy woman muttering about packages of rice and Ramen noodles sliding around on the conveyor belt or rearranging the placement of her sacks in the cart when her husband or the checker is helping load the cart, come on over and say hi. Who knows, you may just help stop an argument over where the next sack should go!
12:17 PM ~