eunuch in a grocery store
I have not gone grocery shopping in more than three and a half years. I've managed to roam the aisles of Whole Foods every few months, but my real groceries have been delivered by Peapod ever since I broke my leg in the fall of 2004.
Over the years, friends have -- from time to time -- attempted to regale me with their tales of joy in the aisles: the pleasure of fondling fruit, of discovering new ingredients, of selecting the most beautiful cut of meat.
I have explained, in turn, that none of this appeals to me. I do not know how to cook. I do not care to know how to cook. I look at food and I do not think of the possibilities. I think, "What the hell am I going to do with that?" While I definitely take pleasure in food that others have cooked for me, I imagine my reaction to grocery shopping is similar to a eunuch in a Hustler Store.
"Yeah, so what?"
I went grocery shopping today. My general indication that it is time to submit a new order to Peapod is that my 79 cent flavored one liter seltzer stash has been depleted and, this time around, I let it go too far. I was parched. So, I thought to myself, "Maybe it will be fun to go to the grocery store. Tra la la la la."
No.
The grocery store sucks. First of all, it particularly sucks in DC because there are no decent grocery stores within city lines. I figured I might have some luck if I headed out to the suburbs and drove out to Giant in Arlington which, if you have not been before, is a DUMP. And, of course, I got the gimpy cart, which meant that, every time I tried to take a corner, I risked wiping out the end display.
No, it was not pleasurable. In fact, it was so not pleasurable that I dragged my lily white yuppie ass to Whole Foods to make myself feel better, stopping at Logan Tavern across the street for a glass of Laphroaig before heading in TO EASE MY PAIN.
$40 dollars of hors d'ouevres later (I spent $135 dollars at Giant -- about $25 of which were my beloved bottles of seltzer), I walked out of Whole Foods and headed home. I'll avoid sharing the tale of carrying 30 one liter bottles of seltzer into the house in bags that broke so easily that I actually had a conversation with one in the elevator which went something like this,
"You were put on this earth to carry things. You are not fulfilling your destiny."
(The bag did not respond.)
Peapod? I'll be back in touch.
As soon as I get through these 30 bottles of seltzer.
Over the years, friends have -- from time to time -- attempted to regale me with their tales of joy in the aisles: the pleasure of fondling fruit, of discovering new ingredients, of selecting the most beautiful cut of meat.
I have explained, in turn, that none of this appeals to me. I do not know how to cook. I do not care to know how to cook. I look at food and I do not think of the possibilities. I think, "What the hell am I going to do with that?" While I definitely take pleasure in food that others have cooked for me, I imagine my reaction to grocery shopping is similar to a eunuch in a Hustler Store.
"Yeah, so what?"
I went grocery shopping today. My general indication that it is time to submit a new order to Peapod is that my 79 cent flavored one liter seltzer stash has been depleted and, this time around, I let it go too far. I was parched. So, I thought to myself, "Maybe it will be fun to go to the grocery store. Tra la la la la."
No.
The grocery store sucks. First of all, it particularly sucks in DC because there are no decent grocery stores within city lines. I figured I might have some luck if I headed out to the suburbs and drove out to Giant in Arlington which, if you have not been before, is a DUMP. And, of course, I got the gimpy cart, which meant that, every time I tried to take a corner, I risked wiping out the end display.
No, it was not pleasurable. In fact, it was so not pleasurable that I dragged my lily white yuppie ass to Whole Foods to make myself feel better, stopping at Logan Tavern across the street for a glass of Laphroaig before heading in TO EASE MY PAIN.
$40 dollars of hors d'ouevres later (I spent $135 dollars at Giant -- about $25 of which were my beloved bottles of seltzer), I walked out of Whole Foods and headed home. I'll avoid sharing the tale of carrying 30 one liter bottles of seltzer into the house in bags that broke so easily that I actually had a conversation with one in the elevator which went something like this,
"You were put on this earth to carry things. You are not fulfilling your destiny."
(The bag did not respond.)
Peapod? I'll be back in touch.
As soon as I get through these 30 bottles of seltzer.
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1 comment:
I hear you. I hate grocery shopping too. Always have, and I know I always will, though boutiquey stores with interesting snack foods and pre-made meals ease the pain a little.
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