Whenever I’m unburdened by necessity, I find being at the grocery store strangely therapeutic. Yeah, I get that it’s not a normal feeling. What I mean is that when I don’t have a snaking list of necessities to guide my movement through the store in a rushed and aggravated manner, I enjoy meditating on the way each section is organized. Sometimes I zone out and just read the price tags, trying distill the essence of each item into a numerical value equal with how many hours someone might have had to work in order to afford it. This usually stresses me out too much by the time I get to cheese, so I move on to just looking for new items or things I don’t usually pay attention to because I’m too frantically trying to find a jar of sun dried tomatoes before my sauce on the stove at home boils over.
Ah, the grocery store. I was plodding through bins of produce at Whole Foods the other day, looking for nothing whatsoever when a small stash of long pink stalks caught my eye. Rhubarb! I checked the sign “Conventional/ Holland; $7.99/lb.” UGH! Are you serious!? Whatever. I said out loud to nobody. I grabbed 3 stalks and paid. I knew ice cream would be in their future.