“I’ll just duck in and grab a few things”, says the child bride. “You want to join me?”, the look on her face brooking no dissension. Reluctant as a chook at a tar and feathering party I trail behind her hoping for some legitimate distraction, or at least to come across a not-so-well-known acquaintance that provides the required excuse to linger outside.
A blur of colour greets me from every shelf, adding to the confusion of my intention. Occasionally amplified instructions echo down the aisles like the call to evening prayers from the local mosque. I have often wondered, if all the public notices in our grocery stores were sung like Islamic prayers, would the diction and clarity of the message improve? Every time you turn into the next aisle you meet the same people you saw in the previous aisle. By the time you have finished your shopping you almost feel like old friends. Sometimes I find myself wanting them to be old friends; the contents of their trolley looks much more interesting than what’s in ours.
The are three groups of people in a grocery store; those with a list and a determination to get in and out as quickly as possible; those without a list that still need to return home with an appropriate quantity of food and household items to forestall another trip to the store for as long as possible; and partners dragged along against their will to “help”, but who usually provide little assistance. I so want to be a member of the first group, but know in my heart that I will always hold a solid membership in the third.
I don’t know how grocery stores became so big, or why they felt they needed to grow to such monstrous proportions. If I find a grocery store when I get to Heaven I will feel completely abused of the commonly accepted meaning for ‘heaven’. I bet Nirvana doesn’t have a grocery store. I bet Utopia doesn’t either. Nor a post office with a long queue, or cafes that only sell kale smoothies and vegan dishes. Heaven will be sensible about such things. After all, who wants to spend eternity shopping for gluten-free bread, low-fat milk and quinoa.
And don’t start me on shopping for clothes! Heaven forbid.
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