I Hate Grocery Shopping

Let me begin by painting a brief picture of my current housing situation. Technically, I still live with my parents. However, our house has an in-law apartment that was occupied by my grandparents until recently. Now, I’ve moved in. It’s really nice! Rent is cheap and I still get to eat family dinners. However, it does mean that I’m taking the first few steps into independent living.

And with that comes the horror of grocery shopping.

I just shop for me, and really only buy things for my breakfasts and to bring to work as a bagged lunch. Many times, my mom will pick up what I need when she does her weekly trips, and I pay her back. However, this past weekend my parents took a well-deserved getaway, and I was left to fend for myself. I only needed a few things, but I still needed to plunge myself into a Price Chopper on a Sunday afternoon.

Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.

I needed more things that a carry basket would allow, but not enough to fill a cart. However, I took a cart to make my life easier. It didn’t. Those carts are huge by necessity, and you can fit a ton of stuff in them. But aisles weren’t meant for such monstrosities! I didn’t hit anyone (thank god) but I had to deal with more traffic than on my commute to work!

Including two little girls riding one of the motorized scooters traditionally used for elderly or those with difficulty walking.

I don’t have the store’s layout memorized yet either, but I think I should take a map and memorize it soon. You almost have to create a plan of attack when you go through the store. Soap is down Aisle 3, the deli is by the Starbucks, snacks do not mean Goldfish—those are crackers, Pirate’s Booty is impossible to find, Ben & Jerry’s is so expensive (but OH SO worth it), and so on. Combine that with the previous mentioned traffic buildups, and you have a recipe for a trying time.

Even with all that, I managed to get my stuff in record time and claw my way to the register. Despite having 15 or so registers open, lines still form. Fortunately, I did not have to wait in line (I had to do that plenty at my previous stop at K-Mart), and managed to get through that little hassle scot free.

I wheeled my carriage back to my car, loaded my groceries in the back of my Rav4, and raced out of there like a bat out of hell, hoping to never go back.

And crushed my milk in the process on the way home.

To everyone who makes this a weekly trip and buys far, FAR more than I do, I salute you. You clearly have more patience and determination than I could muster. Well done.


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