Saturday and Sunday
Determined not to repeat my previous supermarket meltdown, I pull into the parking lot, square off, and hike up the waistband on my sweatpants. I can do this. I pass through the sliding glass door and down the first aisle. I don't know what is is but something happens to me when confronted with thousands of retail reminders of my cash flow (or soon to be lack thereof). Then I go into this strange stream of consciousness thought mode. "Wow, pork chops are on sale. Probably won't be able to stock up as much as I would like. Crackers, I should get crackers. Generic crackers. What do I get when I can't afford generic crackers? Panko bread crumbs? Maybe I can just mix them in with the margarine, spoon it out and call it a day." Before I realize it I'm hyperventilating and my heart is pounding, and by the look of the mother across the aisle, I'm scaring small children.
I leave the cart mid-aisle, grab the paper and go through the checkout line with my sunglasses on. Like that is going to deflect the bad vibes from the canned goods. Foil...what about tin foil....OMG! I'm that woman!