When Sheila got home from the jail this afternoon (ah, but that’s another story) I buzzed over to the grocery store where we spend a good part of our lives and our money. I had just a few things to pick up, mostly for the sweet onion pie I am making for dinner tonight, and the chicken piccata I am making for dinner tomorrow night.
I had scrawled a list of the few items I needed on a green post-it note. As always, I started in the produce section on the right, and then moved farther and farther to the left around the store. About halfway around, I consulted my list to see how I was doing. I read:
Ritz crackers (check)
Ched cheese (last aisle)
Vidalia (sweet onions—check)
Bread crumbs (crossed out—do not need)
Walnut pieces (check)
Ice cream (last aisle)
Asp? What the hell?? The image of a dying Cleopatra surfaced in my mind. What? What in the world had I meant by “Asp”? I didn’t need aspirin. Must be an old post-it note from when I did need aspirin, I thought. I couldn’t imagine.
I breezed over to the self-service checkout. Not everyone is smart or clever enough or brave enough to use it, but I am definitely above average, tech-wise. I confidently scanned my items, bagging them quickly. When you have produce, the screen asks you to type in the item, and then it shows you some pictures and you select the right item. Usually it only needs the first two or three letters of the item. I typed in oni and selected Vidalia sweet, lem and selected lemons, and asp and selected asparagus, which I had thought would go nicely with the chicken piccata.