I wish I had made a list.
I wish I was the type of person who made lists.
People who make lists don't forget things. They don't have to walk up to the counter with that nagging feeling that they forgot something. Something important. THE Something. The whole reason they came to the store in the first place, before they got distracted by the sale on strawberries. Is it even strawberry season? Are they on sale because they are in season or because they're not and they taste bad? Strawberries would be really good with Nutella. When was the last time I had Nutella? Damn, that stuff is delicious.
What was I saying? Oh, lists.
Lists give people focus. People who make lists don't get distracted by strawberries and even if they did they absolutely wouldn't be found near the Nutella. They're there to make check marks. They're on a mission. They get what they came for and walk away satisfied, accomplished with all their somethings in tow.
I'm not a list person.
(Once I remembered to make one but then forgot it at home on the counter.)
So, naturally, I usually return home loaded up on strawberries and Nutella, wiping my ass with tissues for another day because I originally went to the store for toilet paper.
Anyway, that's how I got here. Standing in the check out line at Stop & Shop, with sweaty palms because I know I forgot something (probably THE something) and because I never think I need a basket but I almost always do and now the carton of milk, with all it's delightful condensation, is slowly slipping from my arms. My arms that are packed with english muffins, eggs, bananas, and Cherrios. All of which I strongly doubt were the original reason I came to the store.
I always forget to make a list.
I do need milk. And eggs. Maybe not bananas but they never hurt anyone. Cherrios are always good. But there was something else. I know because I've got the nagging feeling. I also know I will never remember what the something is right now. Standing here, thinking too hard. Nope. That's not how this works. The something is going to come to me on the ride home. Right as I'm hitting my stride singing the chorus to "Bad Romance".
Of course dish soap isn't it and I'm not going to remember now. Not standing in line. Not with the sweaty milk. There's too much pressure.
Aside from being genetically incapable of making or remembering a list, I can never get a hold of where anything in this place is located. I go to the store with my mother and she knows exactly where everything is. She whips in and out of the isles. She's quick and precise, never having to back track because she walked through the whole store before realizing the soups were back where she came in and she just spent 15 minutes weaving through every isle wondering why she couldn't find them. I can never find the stupid soup.
Maybe it was soup!
No, it wasn't soup.
Anyway, I think I may have been adopted.
This lady in front of me has so many groceries in her cart she either has 8 children or is building a bomb shelter in her backyard. She even has the industrial size paper towel package jammed into the wire rack at the bottom.
I'm confident that she found her heap of supplies in about half the time it took me to locate the english muffin isle.
She is, of course, reading through a giant list and nodding approvingly. She's a professional. She's got coupons.
And I'm just standing here looking uncomfortable because (due to the struggle of holding all of these non-the-something items) the milk is not the only thing sweating. The milk that I'm going to drop in about 30 seconds right in front of this grocery shopping superstar.
"Do you have a Stop & Shop card?" the cashier is asking the woman. Of course she does. So now I'm standing here wondering why I don't have a Stop & Shop card. I have a Blockbuster card, a CVS card, a library card, a GAP card. I even have a Godiva card that I was manipulated into getting by an unfairly attractive Godiva employee named Mark. I need to get a Stop & Shop card if I'm going to be serious about this grocery shopping thing.
A Stop & Shop card, a basket and damn tutorial on list making.