A Necessary Evil

​Food. Our entire lives revolve around it. Some of the best memories of holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, sporting events, and yes, even pandemic lockdowns are bountiful feasts. Those sensory and savory events, always enjoyable and meaningful, are a pleasure to anticipate, plan for, and execute. Sure they are. Does anyone really enjoy hours and hours, oh, and then more hours of stressful planning and preparation for 20 minutes of self-indulgence? Kudos to you chosen few!
 
Okay, so I have established that food can be fun for some. Let's talk about the nutritional sustenance aspect of this inconvenient necessity. We all need to eat to stay alive. That is certainly not a bombshell newsflash. God knows I love to eat. The daily hassle of having to plan, shop, and cook, however, is a pain. If it was financially feasible, I understand why eating out has become the largest national pastime. So why do I have such a disdain for this life-sustaining duty?
 
Grocery shopping - it is the bane of my existence. Even though I love to cook, it is by far my least favorite thing to do. As a matter of fact, I hate it. Give me the choice of laundry, bathroom cleaning, removing unidentifiable food products from the frig, or any other household chore and I would gladly choose anything but grocery shopping. I was fortunate to have partners in my life that offered to shop and far be it from me to decline. "Just make me a list," they would say, and I would excitedly and with great respect draft away. Oh, I am a certified wish list expert! The best part is that those who actually like to shop tend to linger and explore. So, I always delighted in emptying grocery bags to see what kind of surprises their adventure delivered. It was like discovering a hidden treasure chest of gold without having to dig for it.
 
But as a solitary soul who needs to eat to survive, it is simply a necessary evil. And the design of these purchasing monstrosities escapes logic. In my fits of irritation, I have become the queen of canned soup. Finding what you want is just too much like work.
 
Unlike the holidays, good cuts of meat like small rib roasts or lamb chops are no longer daily fare. You have to flag down a butcher and place a special order. Canned pumpkin, splattered all over store aisles and endcap displays just weeks ago, has mysteriously disappeared. You need a bona-fide treasure map to find it. And simple crackers? Doesn't it make sense they would be by the chips, pretzels, and other snacks? Oh no, they are on the candy aisle. And do not get me started about toothpicks.
 
Yes, I know, there are now all these order pick-up and delivery options. However, cracked eggs, wimpy celery, and no edible surprises placed with love in my grocery bags just do not cut it.
 
Maybe I should put this blog on hiatus and start working on an online dating profile: Whimsical yet prolific writer with a Tinkerbell complex (a delightful pixie-dust spreader, cute huh?) desires ruggedly handsome storybook Prince. Must promise to love, cherish, and grocery shop - not necessarily in that order. Ah but that is fodder for yet another rant. 
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