Still. This has reached horrific proportions. Someone from my household has gone to the grocery store every single day since we got back from California. Friday night, Saturday, yesterday, today. This is ridiculous. The grocery store is two minutes from home, so it's not a major drain on resources, but -- for heaven's sake. Friday night was just a milk run, so Saturday was a planned expedition, but then there was yesterday and today. Uff da. So I got the almonds I needed for the dinner I'd already started making, and I got raisins because somehow we were out of raisins, and I got cucumber because I had left just a stub after my lunch salad, and all this sounds reasonable, doesn't it? As though we might have thought of these things before? Which we would have, if I wasn't so grocery impaired! And I got some cheese for Mark's sandwiches, and I got strawberries so...we would...um...have strawberries...so okay, some of the stuff I ended up getting wasn't on a strict need basis.
I suppose the answer to this is to declare ourselves willing to eat company chicken without the almonds or something barbaric like that, but I would just be doing it to prove that I could, and where's the sense to that?
(Except, okay, sometimes it's good to prove you can do something if you don't know that you can. But I'm sure there was some time when we didn't go to the grocery all week. I can't tell you when, but sometime.)
It was good company chicken with rice, and it was good roasted asparagus with garlic. I am grocery impaired, not cooking impaired.
Tonight I am not writing a hundred times, "Not every fantasy story needs to be about early twentieth-century physics." But not, alas, because I don't need the reminder. Also I am letting my music player poke a story for me, and apparently what you get when you mix the Mountain Goats, Louis Armstrong, and Bob Marley is very similar to what you get when you mix Mary Shelley and the Kalevala. Or at least that's what I get. Huh. Neat.