Going to Market

Why is it I always forget the most important thing on my list whenever I go grocery shopping? No matter how many times I remind myself to buy whatever it is I happen to need, I always seem to remember what I've forgotten at the exact moment my car pulls into the driveway at home. And writing it down on a list doesn't help me much either, as I normally do one of two things, forget the list in the car, or not even bother to consult it even once while in the store.

Last night, I forgot the dishwashing liquid and the hair spray, in favor of a full roasting chicken and a gallon of skim milk. Which means that in just a short while, I will be trekking my way back into town in order to correct my blunder. And since I'd like my dishes to be washed at some point this weekend, now is far better than later.

Still I don't know how happy I am about having to deal with the Saturday crowds at market, and the inevitable cashier who will question - once again, every item in my cart. Last night, he felt the need to comment about the amount of pasta products I was buying, to the point that I almost felt that I needed to defend myself and offer up explanation. "I'm cooking pastina for a family dinner," followed by "I'm Italian, what did you expect?" And last week, he was questioning a small tub of sour cream he thought was dip. Which of course I felt the need to set him straight on. As in, not dip ...

I think there's something about me that causes people to ask either the really dumb questions or tell me things most people would be smart enough to keep to themselves. I'm not quite sure what it is, but it's probably the exact same thing about me that entices 80 year old men to try to pick me up in the spice aisle. Sad but true, when the geriatric population thinks you're one hot sexy mama.