Feeling particularly hermit-y today, but I had put off going out because there is no food in the house (of the cat or human variety) I usually foist this task on James, but since he’s working this weekend, I donned my sunday best and ventured to Trader Joe’s and PetCo on LaBrea&3rd.

I hate going to the grocery store. Perhaps because it is always crowded, or there’s never any parking, or because the people who shop there epitomize Los Angeles (skinny people dressed in their yoga clothes or their vintage clothes that cost hundreds of dollars). Suddenly, whatever I am wearing is wrong. My clothes feel frumpy, my hair is not cute, my favorite, very cool Diesels are no longer very cool.

I get to Trader Joe’s and there is no parking. I squeeze into a spot after waiting for someone to pack up her car and go. I walk inside only to find the doorway jam packed with people standing in the check out line. There are no baskets (I refuse to use a cart because they are impossible to manuever in this small store. Luckily I brought my canvas grocery bag andI start stuffing everything in it. But now, I am only limited to buying the things I can carry in this bag. I am wandering around this store, lost among the crowds, trying to find the damn water and the organic tomatoes! Standing in line, I get a tickle in my throat that causes me to have a coughing fit. When I am alone in a store, I become conscious of what I am looking at. There is nothing for me to do, no one to talk to, so I stare at people, and they catch me, so I stare at the floor. As I am getting to my car, I take out my keys and something falls out of my bag. “Forget it!” I say to myself. I look back to see my lipgloss on the ground, calling my name. But I cannot double back to pick something off the ground. Not when there are 50 cars in line, staring at me, waiting for me to get out.

I finally get the hell out of there and make it across the street to PetCo, where pets go. And this is even worse. I am standing in line holding a 17lb bag of cat litter in one hand and a 5lb bag of cat food in the other, when the handle breaks on the litter and falls to the floor. I now have to stand in line and balance these bags on my hip or on the floor, which makes me half to bend over. The coupon for $2 off I have painstakingly saved is nowhere to be found in my bag. I try to (gracefully) leave the store, back out my car and head for the shelter of my home.

I literally felt like I was running away when I was driving back the tree lined streets up to Beverly. I wanted to take a picture but I neither had my phone or my camera. So there you have it. I know it doesn’t sound all that bad. But I assure you it was. But it had to be done. I love eating too much to wait until midnight when James comes back to eat. And I couldn’t let my babies starve. Ugh, I hate going to the store. Maybe once James reads this he won’t make me go back to that hell hole.

*sigh* My dad’s out of the country so there will be no one to nag me about watching the oscars tonight. No, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to do some chores before crashing into a catatonic state on my couch, with Mr Harry Potter.

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