Why in the hell am I grocery shopping before 7am?
Good question, and I'm glad you asked.
It's mostly because I'm terribly unorganized and I'm married to a guy who changes his diet
Just when it seems like we are in a comfortable routine of ham/cheese or peanut butter/jelly sandwiches he has to go and switch things up.
(comments about Daddio going to the grocery store his-self... hahahahahahahha.... Understand that Daddio and I are alive and well and living smack dab in the middle o' the 1950's over here at Casa Koby-Cleaver)
I love him dearly and while I complain about his quirks and tendencies and blame all my early morning grocery store trips on him, I'm normally buying crap for work too.
This morning while racing toward the stop sign at the end of my block I notice two birds playing.
The birds waltz, dip and dive, their synchronized wings painting the sky.
Suddenly they swoop toward the ground where they tumble around for a second or two.
A roll in the street, a bird-ly courting.... (wink wink)...
As I pull to the stop sign they take a final dive, the lust struck sky dancers oblivious of their proximity to the front end of my car.
I had no idea that I'd struck one until I looked in my rear view mirror.
DAMMIT, dammit, dammitalltohell.... ohhhhhhh ooooohhh it hurt my heart so to see that little bird lying still in the road.
Pulling into the Kroger's lot I wasn't in the greatest mood....
Blood and bird feathers and thoughts of a mate-less bird weighed heavily on my murderous heart.
When I was done gathering my groceries I discovered that I was expected to be my own cashier and bagger this fine morning.
My local Kroger store does not believe in having bona-fied cashiers on the floor before 7:30 am... if you need to shop before then sucka you'd better have loads of extra time on your hands..there tends to be all sorts of complications in the process of morphing into that role when you're sentenced to the U-Scan and are a novice cashier such as myself.
My eyes and the tiny code stickers on the two bananas I was hoping to purchase weren't on the same page and I was forced to choose "picture" to identify what was what.
I confidently clicked on a picture of a bunch of bananas.
A screen filled with bananas popped up.
There were at least six different types to choose from.
Six different kinds of bananas.
My nostrils flared, then snorted.
My right foot pawed and scraped at the ground.
Suddenly, someone was crying and screaming about being a bird killer.
A bird killer who knows jack about bananas.
I sucker punched the machine, tore my coupons into confetti, and ate my money.
My virtual breakdown helped a ton.
It's a therapy I use often when I'm out of time and waiting patiently for the world to (once again) right itself.
(in this case the U-Scan cashier to get over and help me figure out which strain (classification? species?) of bananas I had)
On the drive home I saw the tiny bird body in the road and I curse my hard bumper and the stupid careless bird and the passage of time in the morning and wish I could have a re-do.