Late night grocery shopping
Since I pretty much despise going to the grocery store during everyone else’s hours, the night time is the right time for me. This gives me the perfect opportunity to outfit my ipod with some Ryan Adams and slip into lonely mode, one of my secret pleasures. Now no one likes to be sad, but you never realize at the time of true sadness that it will all pass. Being able to put yourself in a mood with full knowledge of your control is different. You can’t slip too far or the decent out of the darkness will be harder. There’s more of a science behind it that comes with practice.
During the day, the grocery store is full of life. Fast paced and hectic moms flood the aisles trying to maneuver their carts around like a grand prix. Certain aisles turn into temporary libraries with confused individuals reading labels and ingredients as if they have never actually taken the time to compare the different mustards. Turning down one of those aisles is the equivalent of storming the beaches of Normandy. If there is more than one person in your aisle, skip it, move on.
But at night, a shroud of depression blankets the fluorescent food warehouse. Everyone moves slowly through the vacant produce section. Hamburger helper has staring contests with bachelors and the liquor aisle is the most popular with hipsters trying to figure out the difference between a shiraz and a shyrah. Each customer has a unique story that begs to be mulled over in your head. He use to do this with his girlfriend and now he’s lost and starving since they broke up and he doesn’t know what he likes to eat. He is in here every night because he can’t plan out his meals more than one day in advance. She…well, she is very proud and would rather not have anyone see her buying store name brands. This is Los Angeles after all.
So here I stroll the aisles paying more attention to these small details than what I actually came in to buy, which at this time is always cookies. Just being enveloped in the temporary longing for hope and food compiled by the people wandering around me is enough to fill my appetite.
“But at night, a shroud of depression blankets the fluorescent food warehouse.”
Good bedtime story.