Grocery Hell and Psycho Bag Boys

I hate grocery shopping. It seems I'm always in the god forsaken Publix for something. I can—make a list, get everything on it, spend two hundred dollars, get home, put it all away, and then realize I have forgotten one item. What usually follows is an undignified adult temper tantrum with lots of cursing and stomping about. I start another list, unless it's something crucial that I've forgotten and then I have to return to the store wasting my time, and burning gas for toilet paper. You may be thinking...why doesn't she just go to the kwiki store for one item? Well, sometimes I do, but not for ass wipe. I have to buy the premium, mega mother, softest Charmin brand. I do, after all, have two (okay, three including me) very picky little girls, and one indifferent husband who can't understand why us ladies need to use so much toilet paper in the first place. We, on the other hand, don't understand how he gets his ass clean with three squares of paper—must be a guy thing. 

Besides loathing the chore of having to shop for food, I get myself all worked up during my time shopping because I have obsessive compulsive disorder about how my groceries should be bagged. When I load the belt, all of my food is sorted in the manner in which I think it should be—heavy items first, they should go on the bottom, then boxes like cereal, Goldfish, Rice-a-Roni, etc., veggies and fruit come next, followed by frozen and cold foods, and lastly bread and chips, they go on top so they don't get smushed, right? Well, let me tell you, my food never gets bagged the way I want it to. I get so excited when the cashier is missing the bag boy/girl. I'll dive into their line hoping that I get to bag at least some of my groceries, but alas, they always appear out of nowhere to help me finish.

What I get is a bag with one container of yogurt and a big box of cereal. In what universe does that make sense? Boxes t o g e t h e r. Cold items t o g e t h e r. I think you understand my frustration. 

The last thing I can't stand about the whole grocery shopping experience is chatty cashiers and baggers. I just want to pay for my food, not have a conversation about everything coming down the belt...ooohhh I've never tried these, are they good?...have you ever tried cooking these with bacon?...uh-oh, looks like someone is indulging later on today...I don't like avocados, never have...mmm, I love spinach salad, too, but with warm dijon dressing...I just stand there gritting my teeth, and nodding politely wanting the torture to end. Finally, it's time to go, but there is one more matter to contend with—the insistent bagger who wants to help you to your car. Is it just me, or does anyone else hate this? I have to jockey for position to wrestle my cart away from his grubby mitts. Let me help you with that, miss...No, it's okay I don't need help today...well, it's no problem, I don't mind...No really, I'm okay...but it's my pleasure to...NO THANK YOU!! You know what I'm talking about, don't you? You're laughing right now because you know it's true! Well, I hope you're laughing—I'm not 'cause I have to go grocery shopping later this morning. kmn