Taco Tuesday

I got a text from downstairs this morning before I woke up.  “All set to make a frittata, but there are no onions.” (We have unlimited text messaging.)

After a long day helping deliver clean and reliable energy from the informal sauna of my Home Office, I came downstairs to make myself a salad for dinner, because I’m resolved to eating healthy for the remainder of the Pandemic, or until I get tired of it.

Roommate says, “I thought you would have been down to Vons by now to get me my onions, especially if you want a frittata in the morning.”

I don’t want a frittata in the morning. I want a bowl of Raisin Bran with some cream and fresh, organic blueberries that I bought this weekend.

But those are inside words.

I grabbed my wallet and my billfold (two different things), walked to the garage (“See if they have the original Listerine. I don’t like the flavored one.”), changed into my outdoor clothes, and headed for Vons.

I got a good parking place in the shade, ‘cause it was almost 7:00 PM, and the eucalyptus were casting long shadows, so most of the parking lot was in shade, so big whoop, right? The Mexican restaurant had roped off the spaces in front of their store and set up tables and umbrellas for Taco Tuesday, but they had no guests. The white Escalade that followed me too closely through the lot at 8 mph stopped with a jerk in the next aisle over.

I masked up and went straight for the cleaning products aisle. Still no ammonia or Lysol.

Next up: Produce. 2 yellow onions. The regular size, not the Jumbo.

Next up: Oral care. Original Listerine, which they don’t sell at our Target anymore.

Next: Beer aisle for a 12 of PBR’s.

As I walked to the start of the checkout line, I noticed Martha from last week on register four, and I started preparing my response for if she asks me if I have been drinking already today. It will be devastating.

But I am directed to register one.

The young man there commented, “Beer, onions, and mouthwash?”

I don’t think I’m going to shop at our Vons anymore.   

(My romaine was not chopped for me when I arrived home.)