Pulling into the parking lot, cars to the left, cars to the right, there's a spot.
I choose this one.
Get out of the car making my way - God, I hate grocery shopping.
It means so many things: picking the right foods, stocking the pantry, cooking the dinner, storing The Leftovers.
Up and down and round and round, cruising the aisles looking for the right items
Seeing what is left behind.
Putting small, medium, large packages into the cart.
Making my way to the checkout counter.
Taking a quick count, Rebel that I am, I go into the 15 items or less line with a snicker, I have 16.
I inch closer and closer to the conveyor belt of freedom. I am stopped short when the cashier gives me a look. I hold my breath.........and then I hear.....paper or plastic?