Grocery Store Confessions
I was picking out tomatoes at the grocery store yesterday so I could make fresh salsa. As I tried to imagine what possible virtues hydroponic vegetables possess to offset their tastelessness I noticed a little girl, probably around 6 years old, fondling a pile of fresh green beans nearby. She looked past me to her mom who also was picking tomatoes and asked, “Mommy, what are these?” I thought it was kind of cute but a little sad that she had to ask what a green bean was. Then her mom said, “I don’t really know.” In quiet shock I turned to put the tomatoes in my basket.
It was then that I realized the basket I was using wasn’t mine. I must have mistakenly grabbed someone else’s before I came to the produce aisle. I left the basket there as I looked for someone who appeared to be as confused as I, someone other than the clueless produce mom, who was smartly holding on to her own basket.
I had no luck finding confused people, which isn’t that surprising. Were I a person missing a basket (and I was) I would stroll around the store trying not to look spacey enough to misplace a shopping cart. Happily, I bumped into basket #1. I’d left it in the frozen foods section. I don’t know if it was the right thing to do, but I never went back to the one in produce I’d nabbed. Once I found mine, I just acted as if I’d left it to pick up some tomatoes, grabbed the handle bar and headed for the check-out.
My punishment for not trying harder to reconnect the owner with the stray basket and for pretending not to be senile was forgetting the cilantro I’d planned to use in my salsa.