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Really, It Was Supposed to Be About Groceries

They say you shouldn’t shop for groceries when you’re hungry. And I believe that — I’ve done it, and it never really goes well. I always end up coming home with three hundred dollars worth of food that ‘only looked good in the store’.

Which puzzles me a little bit, I have to admit. See, as a rule, I don’t get all that excited about food — sure, I eat it, and I like a lot of it. And I wrote fifteen hundred words, right here, about a sandwich the other day.

Okay, okay, so apparently I do get excited about food, sometimes. But I certainly don’t get my flagpole in a tizzy over making food. And that’s what you go to the grocery store for, generally — ‘meal parts’, that you can mix and match and chop up to make actual, edible food. That’s why it’s so weird that I come home with such nonsense sometimes — I know that I’m never, ever going to do anything useful with ginger root, or lentils, or a pomegranate, for chrissakes. I don’t even know what a pomegranate is, really — is it an apple on steroids? A mutated orange? Some hideous cran-pear-cherry Frankensteinian concoction? I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve got no business buying one. I’m an idiot.

But you know — I don’t have this problem in other stores. I don’t buy more booze at the liquor store, if I go in there hammered. Or stock up on new goodies at the bookstore, if I’ve been reading lots of cereal boxes. And I don’t come home with piles of clothes from American Eagle, when I go to the mall naked.

(Okay, okay… so, for the record, I only went to the mall naked once. And they sent me home before I could buy any clothes, actually. Hell, you’d think they’d realize when they’ve got an easy sale, right? I mean, hell-oooo — winkie hanging out over here by the underwear aisle!

But no. They just escorted me out, and turned me over to security. At least they gave me a blanket to wear. And for free, too. So at least one of us got a good deal that day.)

Anyway, back to the food. Right, like you want to think about food, after picturing me cavorting around the mall pantsless. And there was cavorting. Oh yes — I cavorted. I may have even skipped, just a little.

Okay, enough of that. My point was just this — if it’s no good to shop while you’re hungry, then it’s just as bad to help putting the groceries away when your tummy is grumbling. My wife came home earlier, with a dozen bags of yummies (not a euphemism, folks; move along), and it was all I could do not to eat something out of each one. Pickles, lunchmeat, juice, canned asparagus… it all looked good, baby. Separately, all at once — I didn’t care. I almost stuck my face in her yogurt, and snurfed up a big snootful.

Which actually may be a euphemism; I’m not at all sure. Suddenly, my flagpole is all atizzy, and I’m thinking seriously of getting pantsless again. And I’m still hungry. Eh. I think I’ll go cut open a pomegranate, and see what’s going on in my wife’s yummy bags. So to speak. Ahem. Anyway, happy Sunday! I’m out.