Grocery Grumpy Gus

On a dull Sunday afternoon, the trip to the grocery store should be more of a, “let’s mosey” outing; as opposed to a timestamp on the super-manic highway. I hate that highway. Where – exactly – is that highway? The one I want off of, that’s where. And there should be construction cones setup for that onramp for it too. Allow me to give you the comical impression of my lovely, afternoon tromp…

First of all, I absolutely cannot stand going anywhere in the  middle of the day; once the rest of the world is out and about. It’s the loner in me. It is what it is and I just can’t stand it. The people part, that is. Although, I love people. Hate it. Just not in droves. Not myself though, I’m pretty great. Oh geez. I loathe the cattle that wander around the store without clues as to why they are even there. Pick up the freakin’ bananas already, would you?!

I would rather eat feathers.

Cough! Cough! What was that… a flamingo? So, how much more fun must it be when I do, on occasion, have to enter hell. Skip the dramatics. Okayyy fine… I’ll go outside… Midday. Just to stand behind a woman who checks all 53 egg cartons on the shelf.

Upon walking up to the entrance, there’s an older gentleman pacing around the sidewalk

on his cellphone. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Is that his cart? Doesn’t look to be.

He looked… angry.

Hmmm, he just seems to be pacing aggressively. It’s clearly not his cart.

So, whatever,  I grab the cart sitting next to the door -that not a soul is using with my goofy grin in tow- and proceed to put my crap into the cradle of the buggy. The grouchy guy gets off the phone and rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Is he coming toward me?

I’m like, “Hi, have a great day!”

And he does the quickest 180 degree turn on his heels and darts the other way…

talking s*** … ?

…heyyy…  I think the poop talking was to me. I’m not sure. He was mumbling. Another terrible habit I despise. Anyway, don’t know,  don’t care. I’m in a good mood. He’s just a  cranky old coot and no one is stealing my joy today. You tell ’em!

In the store, I notice the trend that everyone is wandering around  with the frowny, frowny face.  Crap-ass day alert. Just my darn luck. It is – after all – 81 degrees outside. For us west-coasters, that’s considered miserably hot. Why is my forehead soggy? Yeah, I know, we’re a bunch of babies with our fantastic weather all the time and beach bum-isms. Hang Ten, Bruh.

Finally I get through the grumpy menagerie and scoot on over to the cashier. One of the sweetest gals that works there, is at her post. Mind you, I love everyone at the stores I frequent. Totally true. The people at those stores are so great so I find joy -most times- I hit the shopping strip. At four a.m. When it’s just me and the grub worms are out to play in the twilight. Sans soggy forehead syndrome. So, naturally I was tickled to bits to finally see smiles in this sappy supermarket soire. I whisper -says the worst whisperer on the planet –  More like the mooing of a cow that was just tipped over.

“Hey, maybe it’s me… does it seem like the folks aren’t too terribly happy today?”

She laughs and examples the lady, two in front of me,

that was yelling at the checkstand girl for the club card rewards machine system; as if check stand girl invented the damn thing?!

No really, it’s totally all check stand girl’s fault. Or likely it was grumpy gus’ voodoo outside… all I know is that  when I’m not even involved… I somehow ruined that guy’s day.        Go me.