Weirding Out in the Breakfast Foods Aisle

I've been doing a lot of studying before launching out for the weekly grocery trek lately and it has proven to be a good investment of time. This week alone I saved 51% on my grocery order and 55% on my school supplies. In other words, I made $250 bucks this week just by burning up a few hours going through ads, coupons, and spending nearly four hours in just those two stores.

I was buying those groceries about three hours ago, and a good forty-five minutes into my foraging, a song came over the sound system. But it wasn't just any song, it was one of my five favorite all-time songs from childhood. And it was one that used to spark little tiny seizures--the kind where you "go away" for a while--or at least it did after that slight head injury I sustained when the old man on drugs hit Mama and me as we drove to buy my Daddy a bible for his birthday. That can only happen in the South, by the way. We call it "pathos" or Tuesday.

So the song comes on and immediately all the little oatmeal and big cereal boxes begin their retreat into a hazy background. I feel "good" about this, but at the same time, I was glad I was only driving a shopping cart. This song that evidently still has such a hold on me is Steely Dan's "Rikki Don't Lose That Number". Suddenly it was 1974 and Donald Fagan was serenading me up and down the aisles and around those sharp bends at the endcaps. By the time I got to the chip aisle, I was deep into my own "Pretzel Logic".

Then it got worse. It got weirding-out-solemn-broken-hearted-unrequited-lovers-in-unfortunate-polyester-clothing worse.  We regressed two years to '72, to Three Dog Night and that lonesome song of girls who die in car accidents before their 16th birthday: "Pieces of April". I thought of widows in black clapboard houses, overgrown stagnant vines, and all the dreamers who never lived their dreams. Dear gad it was like washing yourself in rusty pus. I'm not knocking the song, and I'll never possess enough talent to knock a '70s supergroup, but damn that thing is creepy rainy sad.

I knew I'd had one of those "something's whispering in your ear" experiences when I got home as I looked at the receipt. Sure, I'd saved more than I'd spent which was nice. Then I saw the little line of information just above my savings chart: "Number of Items Sold". I bought entirely different items this week than last with a very few exceptions. I always plan different meals for a new week so as to escape culinary boredom. And I had a billion coupons and store savings specials, making the amount spent this week way different than the amount spent last week. And still, same as last week, I purchased 101 items.

My old address growing up was 101--physical and mailing. I think I must've cocked my head--the way my dogs and Kevin Spacey do--when I read that little line. I stayed inside and played games? I don't know. I'll keep the receipt in a memory bouquet. Until at least, next May.

"Shambala" anyone?