Going to the market makes me terribly nervous. It's a nervous I love though. All my senses are overwhelmed and my heart races fast. Not in exctasy of love, but rather in fear of how self concious I feel. My habit of talking to myself gets worse and I look like Virginia Woolf in 'the Hours:'
"Somone has to die. Someone has to die. Will she die?"
but it's more like:
"Is 3.99 a sign of good or bad olive oil? Are they looking at the rib eye in my basket? How come everyone is beautiful here?"
Then it gets worse. You spot someone you know! Did they see you? Can you pretend your consumed by the raw walnuts? Oh merde, here she comes. Polite greetings. She smiles then slowly glances down to your basket and looks what you have. Her eyebrow raises. You try to hide your vice under green beans. Nope, not working. You move your basket close then say you have to run.
Next is the stress of checking out, which Trader Joes makes unbelievably easy, but I can't help but feel like my mother, debating over cash or check, coupons or none, etc etc, all flustered with the baggers rolling their eyes at me. I had this job when I was 14, so shut up and do what I say!!
Someday I'd like to go around and smile at everyone all while having a wheel of cheese, laxatives, an enema bag, Twinkies and chocolate bars in my basket.
3 comments:
I love this.
Danny boy! I'm sitting here in bed with my cat, second cup of coffee, and a wicked hang over obsessively reading through your blog and this post made me laugh out loud. I feel the same anxiety while shopping at the Joe, I thought I was the only one. I feel overwhelmingly self conscience. It doesn't help that we've only got one Trader Joe's in the District for ALL to share!
Gee scott! Thanks for all you flattering comments! I try to be the Praries oyster too all hangovers. Joe's seems to bring out the best and beautiful of all shoppers, and immediately I'm thrown back to the grammar school cafeteria
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