It’s my Life. Crazy Lady at the Grocery Store.
Friends were due to arrive in 30 minutes and I had to pull together a lunch.
Broccoli popped into my head. I had overbought this week. I could make a broccoli salad to serve with sandwiches.
Entering the store, I pulled up a salad recipe online and started buying the ingredients.
I also snagged cold cuts, potato salad, pimento cheese (all this Masters talk has put pimento cheese on my mind) and a tomato.
Arriving at the checkout I realized my friends were probably at my house.
No problem.
Watching the checkout girl ring up my lunch and salad ingredients, the old me would have pulled a nail to my mouth but the new go-with-the-flow entertainer me loved this. No pressure at all. Just enjoy my friends.
Got home. Opened door and warmly greeted said friends, then buzzed into the kitchen to start my salad.
Stopped to put sunflowers in vase. Unloaded my groceries. Refereed children fighting in front of company.
Then remembered I must start the broccoli salad so it could chill by lunch.
That’s when I looked for the ingredients.
No bacon. No Miracle Whip, no potato salad. The potato salad was for people who didn’t like spur-of-the-second broccoli salad.
Leaving a bag at the store. Major Martha Stewart fail.
Trying to do more than my God-given allotment of hosting-people-with-food genetics. This last minute broccoli salad was a risk but thought I could pull it together — calmly — like my sister who entertains hundreds while darting away in five minute intervals to complete her clients’ tax returns.
I could use mayo instead of Miracle Whip. Ditch the bacon. But I needed the potato salad for those who didn’t like broccoli (but not for my husband who won’t come with in 10 feet of either).
Back to the store.
I figured best approach was to go the cashier.
“Did I leave a bag of things when I was here?” No recognition whatsoever.
We talked about the beautiful day. I thought we had bonded.
Obviously not.
“There’s no bag here. Try the service desk.”
I made my way to the counter and peered up at the assistant manager. ‘I got home without my potato salad.” And then I pulled the desperation card. “I’ve got people at my home waiting for lunch.”
He looked all around and found nothing but a bag containing a box of frozen corn.
“Just go get what you need.”
I smiled my best forlorn grin in thanks and grabbed the items and headed home.
Entering the kitchen — that’s when I saw them. The lost Miracle Whip and bacon sitting on my counter. Then I opened my refrigerator to find the potato salad.
People. I’m crazy.
I calmly made my salad all the while thinking that I really shouldn’t attempt walking and talking at the same time. Way too much cognitive function needed.
With the salad done, I walked into the room with my company and said, “The good news is that the salad is made. The bad news is that I found the lost items and have to take them back to the store.”
To which my husband broke into Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life.” A reference to my superior organization habits over the course of 25 years of marriage.
Back at the store, I walked up to the assistant manager. “I know everyday you have a crazy person to deal with and today it’s me.”
He replied, “Oh no. We deal with lots of crazy people everyday.” Smiling, he offered to re-shelve my items.
Ever had a day when you’re the crazy person at the grocery store?
