Things were going well, I had a handle on today, I felt like progress was being made.
I was up by 9.30 finishing the final few things that needed picking up, packing away, pulling out and plugging in. I ate leftover spaghetti bolognaise for breakfast, when you eat meat for breakfast the world bows down to you because it knows that you cannot fuck with this man!
You cannot fuck with a man who eats meat for breakfast – that man proceeds directly to the shower and scrubs himself so clean he gets out red, the colour of beetroot, and races to the sink and brushes his teeth, LIKE A SPARTAN!
This man was ME!
Right after that, I grabbed the nearest pen and began writing a LIST! Of GROCERIES! Because we were running dangerously low on MEAT!
Once I’d made sure my grocery list had at least four DIFFERENT animals on it, I added other crucial foodstuffs that I knew I’d get in trouble if I didn’t remember such as:
- MILK!
- YOGHURT!
- COFFEE!
- A MOSQUITO NET! (Technically not a food stuff, but not too bad on a piece of toast with some peanut butter)
I surveyed my grocery list, realising full well that it was lacking in a number of additional foodstuffs to make the consumption of the MEAT more palatable for my WOMAN and other leafy, vegetable-like foodstuffs that my doctor told me I need to have in my diet to KEEP THE SCURVY AWAY, but these were MINOR DETAILS that I knew I could figure out WHEN I GOT THERE!
And so I struck out, engine roaring, music blaring, to HUNT and GATHER from the hot, dry and dusty savannah plains of Pick ‘N Pay, confident that WITHIN THE HOUR I’d be back with a wagon-load of food to nourish my tribe.
I arrived and contemplated parking in the yellow bays right by the entrance that are reserved specifically FOR THE ELDERLY! But that’s highly inconsiderate and what would my mom say?
I then GRABBED a trolley and stormed into the grocery store, one I had never been to before, only to find that it was FUCKING MASSIVE!
Crap. I thought. How the fuck am I going to find anything in here?
The second thing I noticed was the music, which was quite CALM and PEACEFUL and had the same effect SLEEPING PILLS have on me.
Before long, I started to lose enthusiasm. Before long I was just kinda flopping from one aisle to the next, thinking ‘Hmm, Royco Cuppa Soup… do we need this? Royco? Cuppa Soup? I… don’t fucking know…’
The music rolled like a thick fog into my brain, which, already completely overwhelmed for choice, was systematically starting to shut itself down.
Eventually the workings of my mind resembled a goldfish, dead, floating belly up in it’s tank. Or a donkey, standing in the boiling midday heat, its face completely expressionless, half-heartedly swishing flies away from its ass.
Fakh, I thought, not for the first time in my life, I hate grocery shopping.
I don’t know what I bought, hell, I don’t even remember the last half-hour of my grocery shop, which explains why I came home with the following items:
- Coat hangers
- Mince Mate (but no mince)
- Ice Cream
- A gem squash
- Soap
- Steak
- Oven Gloves, and
- Royco Cuppa Soup
Kill me.
Kill me now 🙁
-ST
