Sometimes, I Drown Myself at the Grocery Store

"Honey, grab those cookies, will ya?"

"Which, the peanut butter ones or the double chocolate?"

"Hmmmm.... let's do chocolate chip today, maybe we can put peanut butter on them at home."

"I like your thinkin, this is why I date you."

She quietly strolled through Aldi on the rainy Monday evening, oversized cardigan clung tightly to her petite frame. Her oblivious boyfriend followed close behind, pushing the cart as usual, completely ignoring the list and grabbing whatever sounds interesting to him.

She takes her time and looks around, looks at almost every nutrition label of every item she picks up, and the price too. He's more into just the food itself: the other factors are of much lesser importance. The air in grocery stores is always so cold and dry, have you ever noticed that? It's a constant feeling of air conditioning, even on the warmest summer days or most frigid winter days. It's a reliable temperature so you can always dress accordingly before you go. Yes, she thinks about what she's going to wear before she goes grocery shopping.

She strolls some more through the produce aisle, past the bread and bagels, but not quite to the cheese and deli meat section. Carrots, cucumbers, avocados, check. Erased from the notes on her phone, off the list they go. He grabs some limes and throws them in the cart, nope they weren't on the list, so cannot cross them off too. Yes, that can bother her, not the extra money, but the feeling that it's off now since it wasn't on the list.

Once the rest of the veggies and fruits are placed in the cart, including apples and sprouts to roast one night for dinner, time to move on to another isle. She's starting to sweat a little from her thick hair on her back, and she can feel that extra layer of oil forming on her forehead, right in between her brows. It's glistening, thick, causing new pimples as we speak, and everyone definitely notices it. She quickly wipes it before her boyfriend sees, and tries to just wipe it every few minutes. She should've brought her oil absorbing sheets: they're in the other purse. She should've been more prepared and brought her chapstick too. Yes, she needs to be more organized, and no, no one even noticed.

The cart is slowly getting full, and the whole bottom is covered. They added milk, almond milk, eggs, juice, penne pasta and jarred sauce to the cart, just to name a few. The trip never takes too long, and the frozen section is always the most exciting part. Who doesn't love mozzarella sticks, jalapeno poppers, sweet potato fries? Yet to her, it's like the word "chicken nuggets" is written in small 10 pt font, and the nutrition label is written in bold, 75 pt font, saying "450 calories per serving, IT WILL GO STRAIGHT TO YOUR STOMACH AND THIGHS." Of course she loves chicken nuggets, especially dipped in ranch which they already have at home. They only take a couple minutes in the air fryer, and they are incredibly satisfying. Sure, there's a decent amount of protein in them, but there's also a decent amount of fat in fried, breaded, frozen chicken bites. She throws them in the cart anyways, ready for those cravings to win and they always win after a couple of drinks on a friday night. She knows she shouldn't even have them in the house if she wants to lose 20 lbs, but her and her boyfriend both enjoy eating them when in a time crunch. Yes, she will regret eating those chicken nuggets after she eats them.

The cart is looking colorful, and full of food from almost every aisle. She's been really trying lately to cook new and exciting things, and get away from the recipes she's been doing. New cultures, new ingredients like onion salt and oregano which she never used before (sure, they really aren't that exciting I know, but she wasn't used to using them before, give her a break). Yet, she always seemed let down by the recipes and it's never really what she wants them to be. It seemed everyone else knew how much garlic to add, everyone else knew how to make the bread crumbs the most crispy without being burnt, everyone else knew how to cook already.

Anyways, check out rolls around and once the line of 1 mom shopping for the whole brady bunch is done, and 1 older man grabbing just milk and eggs is through, it's the couple's turn. They load everything on the belt, making sure to put the heavier things on first and then gently add the bread and fragiles at the end, so they aren't crushed by the cashier plopping them effortlessly into the cart. It's her week to pay, and she grabs the bright blue credit card from her wallet and inserts the chip. Once the transaction is over, she grabs the receipt and throws everything into her purse. She has to read the receipt once in the car, and make sure everything on it is right. Then, right after, she has to send over that payment on the credit card app for $112.76. She cannot forget. If she forgets, maybe the autopay won't work that month. Then, she could get hit with a late fee, for not paying that $112.76, right on time, right after she bought it.

28 minutes later, they are home, groceries put away into their designated spots in the cabinets, fridge, and freezer. Every grocery has a specific resting spot, or "home," if you will. Sometimes he puts the groceries away instead of her, and the kitchen is so small that it's hard for her to help him or assist at all. She usually goes and sits on the couch, and turns the tv on and waits for him to come join her a few minutes later.

Finally, grocery shopping is over for the week. She claims that grocery shopping is fun to her and she enjoys doing it definitely more than her boyfriend. But how come when she's done, and finally home, sitting in their apartment does she feel like her mind just now got its first rest? It's quiet in her mind now, she's exhausted from that trip. Physically she's fine, but it feels like her brain just now decided to sit down and rest. Maybe one day she won't feel like her mind drowns her every day, even from just simple tasks. I wonder what that would feel like.