“Remoted” – Day 506 (Wednesday)

Hump day had a break in the after-work routine. At 5:15 there was a daring escape from The BungaLowell and a trip made to Market Basket. In all of the Sunday June Cleaver housework activities, one major planning task was omitted. There was no inventory done  and no preparation of Moose’s people food provisions. As a result, ingredients had been rationed. More chicken was needed. The wheat germ ran out a week ago. The last of the frozen peas and carrots had been doled out this morning.

Market Basket wasn’t crowded. The shelves were neat and tidy. Shoppers were polite to each other and seemed cheerful. I remembered my list and had it in my hand. It was like being in some alternate universe. One guy was whistling and singing and chatting with other seemingly random shoppers he encountered in the aisles. I took note and steered clear. Potential awkward chit chat with strangers  could derail the mission. The personal musical soundtrack made him easy to avoid.

A young boy was zipping around on his wheelies and nearly wiped out, so when he came down the chips aisle where I was wishing that the salt and vinegar chips were salt and pepper chips instead, I was preparing to steer clear. He grabbed a bag of cheese puff things and zipped back down the aisle shrieking like he’d just won a prize.

Pita pocket upgrade.

Over in produce, there were alfalfa sprouts in the shelf space labeled alfalfa sprouts and I was nearly inspired to shriek with joy like the kid with the cheese puffs. The current pita pocket obsession and tonight’s supper got an upgrade. The microgreens of last week’s produce delivery are not exciting. They are tiny mixed salad greens. Big whoop. At least alfalfa have a different mouth feel and flavor. 

Riding the high of finding the sprouts, things got a little crazy. Buttermilk biscuits from the bakery? Ice cream? Multigrain bread?  Sure, let's go nuts!

Exactly one hour after leaving the house, I was standing in the kitchen again unloading groceries. The dogs were all hyper and happy, but it was probably more to do with the smell of roasted chicken coming from the bag and less to do with me. Despite the brief trip to the alternate reality, once at home I had crossed the threshold back to reality. The reality now is there is too much bread for one person with tonight's overzealous acquisition of pita pockets, bread, and biscuits. Looks like it's time to rearrange the freezer.