Mankind's continuing quest for self-actualization does not center itself in churches, temples and synagogues, really. The greatest debate for a man to resolve is not the origin of the species or the nature of the afterlife. None of these debates induces the duel between emotion and intellect like this one. Surrounded by so many choices, man must search his soul and weigh each with equal consideration, because he knows his selection will affect his life each and every day he wakes. Will he make the right choice and face all challenges with his head held high, or be cast into misery, struggling to merely survive until tomorrow?
OK, maybe it's not all that, but why else does it take me twenty minutes to pick out a breakfast cereal at the grocery store?
I have to put the basket down and walk end to end a couple times. Then there are other questions. At what point do you stop feeling guilty if you get Captain Crunch instead of something healthy? But I guess that only really lasts until I leave the parking lot.
Every aisle is another deliberation. If it says 100% real ingredients on the package, is it any less real after being fully cooked, freeze dried or flash frozen and served in less than ten minutes by adding only water or milk? There's an evolution taking place these days from"Just like Grandma used to make" to "Just like Uncle Fred used to unwrap and microwave for a minute forty-five".
And it will never be my motto that "I shop, therefore I cook."
By the way, where do all the single women shop? Everyone buys food, but I must not go at the right time. All I see are toddler herders and teenyboppers on cel phones consulting their friend on which one is better: Gummi bears or Gummi worms. Then there's the occasional poor soul waiting by the pharmacy who's gonna need help loading their prescription order into the car.
It is a good place to meet people, if you think about it. You can't hide who you are. Your basket gives you away. If you're carrying frozen Stouffer's and Hamburger Helper, you're definitely single. And don't be flirtin' with the gal pushing the cart and a half of full size roasts and four gallons of skim milk. You need to hang by the salad bar and watch for someone who doesn't get everything else from the organic section.
With my luck, my dream girl will pass me by while I'm crouched down squinting at unit pricing. But just in case, what wine goes with Spaghetti-O's?
