So today is the first day of Lent. And you know what I’d really like to give up?
Going to the grocery store.
That’s the thought that occurred to me as I walked into HEB for the fourth time in two days yesterday. It’s like I’ve turned into my Me-Ma and Pa-Pa who used to go to the Market Basket down the street from their house an average of forty-two times a week.
My initial trip was to pick up some prescriptions for P and a few other things that we needed around the house. But naturally I forgot to get milk which was one of the more crucial items on my list. So I made a return trip to get it.
Then yesterday I ran to Central Market because I was going to pick up a cheese and cracker tray to take to Caroline’s school for teacher conference week. Except they were out of cheese and cracker trays.
So I drove to my regular HEB in the hopes of finding a cheese and cracker tray and also to pick up yet another prescription for P because I had called the doctor earlier to see if he could call in a different medication. (I think most of you know by now that I consider myself to practically be a doctor because of all my pharmaceutical sales experience. It’s almost exactly the same as all those years of medical school.)
But the new prescription hadn’t been called in yet, plus there was nary a cheese and cracker tray to be found. I had to resort to buying assorted cheeses and boxes of crackers to create my own cheese tray just like women used to do in pioneer times. However, I did take this opportunity to buy us all new toothbrushes because you always hear about how that’s important after you’ve been sick.
(Of course I’ve also heard that you’re supposed to buy a new pillow at least once every couple of years and I think I’ve been sleeping on the same pillow ever since P and I got married. It’s not entirely due to lack of trying. I’ve purchased a few pillows over the years in the hopes that one of them might be THE ONE, but they’ve all left me with regrets and I’ve returned to my first love.)
(Just in case you’re going to recommend a pillow, I need you to know that I enjoy a feather pillow and it needs to be fairly flat. Don’t try to tell me I want anything that involves memory foam. You might as well tell me to lie my head on a cement cinder block every night.)
(Also, I believe it was Oprah who spread that propaganda about the need for a new pillow on a regular basis and that’s easy to say when you can afford to buy all manner of pillows filled with the right blend of essence of butterfly wings and magical sleep dust made from a unicorn’s horn.)
The sweet girl at the pharmacy said she’d call me when the prescription was ready but I never heard from her and it’s probably for the best because if I’d had to go to HEB for the fifth time in two days I might have lost my will to live.
And given the fact that this is the headline story of this post, it’s safe to assume there just isn’t much going on around here right now. The truth is I think I’m still recovering after a month of releasing a book and traveling and taking care of Caroline while she was sick and then getting sick myself and now taking care of P. Which maybe explains why I’ve had a tendency to go full on hermit on any day that gives me that opportunity.
I’m just shy of growing a beard and living under a bridge and yelling at billy goats. Except now that I think about it, I think that was a troll. Whatever.
You get the point.
Anyway, Caroline has early dismissal from school for the rest of the week. I mentioned that one day we could go have a nice girls’ lunch and then do some shopping for clothes that aren’t darling. She has taken me up on my offer. I would appreciate prayers for patience and a supernatural understanding of sentences that sound like “I don’t want a short sleeve shirt, but one that is kind of short sleeve-ish” or “I like this but it feels kind of …(makes gesture like flapping arms while frowning)”
But I have to say it promises to be a lot more fun than another trip to the grocery store.