Saturday as Christmas Nears
I had to go grocery shopping Saturday because we scheduled Christmas shopping for Sunday, two events that have all the potential of purgatory.
In Sam’s Club I needed bird seed. I roamed the aisles, remembering only when it was a special display in the middle of the outdoor section. I finally broke down and asked an associate. She thought a minute. “It’s in the dog food aisle.”
Dog food. The bird seed’s with dog food. I wanted to say, “Okay, I need new skivvies. I suppose they’re in hardware?” But I didn’t, figuring she’d scan my body and banish me to the software section.
Found the bird seed, pretty much buried between mountains of dog and cat food.
Over to Tops. I found what I needed without much incident except for the food sticker shock of $140 for a few bags of food. Outside, an old man threw slices of bread to the seagulls who swooped and fluttered and fought for each slice, totally ungrateful to their benefactor. I’ve seen him before and need to get some pictures.
It could make some neat shots: A dumpy but caring little guy and a white cloud of birds snatching supplies offered for a limited time only.
Over to Dollar General, which takes me through the empty parking lot of a deserted WalMart. The traffic on Rt. 64 which has grown from a pot-holed two-lane over the years to a five lane, is packed with traffic which inches forward at the mechanical whim of the traffic lights.
Someone runs a stop sign. Another is pulled over by the Sheriff. Drivers honk angrily if someone doesn’t start up fast enough. Why is it that the season of peace and love brings out all the angry, impatient people?
I leave dollar bills at every Salvation Army post even though I hate the idea of people standing around ringing a bell at store entrances and exits, dinging up your guilt whether you fight it or not. Today I had to take our plastic bags into the Tops recycling center.
The Salval point was an entire outpost with what appeared to be a large family supporting each other and making the silly small talk that groups of people do when they’re doing something new and having more fun than the situation calls for. They mixed “excuse me’s” with “Merry Christmas” as they parted to let me through.
Coming back out I made my way through them to push a buck into the pot and they all yelled “Merry Christmas,” a phrase which has become a seasonal replacement for “Have A Nice Day.”
Back home a friend posted on his Facebook that as he paid for some gift items at a box store, the cashier got her belly button ring caught in the cash register.
Where, I asked him, was his cell phone? That could have been a picture worth a thousand hits.