Organization doesn’t make every plan work
You’ve got to know by now how much I hate shopping. For anything. Groceries included.
But last Monday morning I sat at the kitchen table to make a list. Authorities on being organized say a list is the way to go, and authorities on grocery shopping say to take a list and not to go hungry.
As I looked through the grocery flyer to make this all-important list, I noticed I could get Chinese food for a good price, so I figured I’d take a hint from the all-knowing authority on organization and do two things with one stop. I’d eat lunch, then shop for groceries. Organization at its best.
But the meal I’d talked myself into craving wasn’t available at the sale price. That particular sale price was last week.
Well, that stinks. I’d used last week’s ad.
Too hungry to think straight, I head toward the shelves to fill my cart with items from my list. See, organization at its best.
I’m sure you’re ahead of me here, but I’ll go on.
Nothing on my list sported a sale sign. Nothing. How can that be, I wondered, looking around for someone to hear my complaint.
This is where God sticks his foot in my mouth before I can make a fool of myself.
Finger waggling in the air to draw attention from the first tie-wearing person I saw, it dawned on me. I had used last week’s ad. Of course nothing matched.
You try not to look stupid with a finger waggling for the attention you just realized you don’t want. T’ain’t possible. At all. I shook my head, sighed and headed to the door. I just couldn’t go on. My oomph had deflated.
I’m out and about, though, and it’s 2 in the afternoon, so I figured I’d best eat something, but my newly-organized mind remembered the list and on the list, right after groceries I planned to stop at an auto store to buy a new little 2-inch round mirror to stick on the corner of my passenger-side van mirror.
My husband started using those little mirrors years ago because you can see right next to the car and if used properly, they get rid of blind spots. No blind spots is a good idea. And once stuck in place those little mirrors stay on forever. They don’t fall off.
But one was gone. I’m guessing someone liked the idea of owning such a cute little stick-on mirror. I noticed it was not attached only when I almost drove into the car on my right because there was no little round mirror to protect me.
Anyway, I get to the auto store, gently ease the shift into park and hear the loudest stomach rumble 85 percent of people in this world have ever heard. So I slipped the gear back into go and headed to the restaurant for my garlic bread sticks fix.
With the first bite, I realized I’m going home without groceries, and will have to go through this again.
I whimpered and ate another bread stick.
So long friends, until the next time when we’re together.
Sandy Mickelson, retired lifestyle editor of The Messenger, may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.