Hey friends!

I’m going to be honest with you all. I really don’t have any words of wisdom for you this week.

I’m sorry.

We’ve been busy with our home projects and still working full time, and nothing. new. has. happened.

I hate to disappoint you all like this.

However, when I started this blog, I made a deal with myself. I wanted to have a domain and website and if I was going to invest in this hobby that I HAVE NEVER DONE BEFORE, then I had to commit to posting every week. Even when the world is shut down and absolutely nothing happens and you run out of things to share. HA HA.

So here I am, writing a post about nothing.

Just kidding.

I am going to tell you all The Story Of How I Almost Died At The Grocery Store.

You’re welcome.

Ahem.

Long, long ago…(like two or three weeks, I can’t remember. What are days anymore?) I went grocery shopping on a Wednesday morning like I always do. Because Lidl restocks on Wednesdays and I like to be there early so I can shop with Ethel and every other lady who looks like an Ethel. What can I say? I’m poor and I shop at the cheap grocery store where they sell delicious off-brand cookies that are beyond compare.

Anyway, this was shortly after people started wearing masks on their own, against CDC recommendations, and there were no paper products and it was basically the first time meat was readily available. I was shopping for me, my parents AND my sister. Which is usually fine, because it’s usually just a few things here and there. But naturally, on this particular morning, my parents’ list kept growing and GROWING AND GROWING. To the point where I kept getting texts while shopping. Finally, the list ended with, “also your dad is getting a little nervous and he wants 10 lbs. of spaghetti, and 10 jars of spaghetti sauce.”

Oh, is that all?? NO PROBLEM, MOM.

I also made a mental note that in the event of any natural disaster, my dad was going to survive on pasta til the day he dies. Good to know. Apocalypse = Stock up on the spag.

I called my sister to ask her a question about her and Cody’s favorite snacks, and we were chatting as my cart kept filling up to the very top. I don’t know if any of you have ever shopped at a Lidl, but there is one major caveat to the experience.

The line is THE WORST.

It’s tiny, charges for plastic bags and you have to bag everything yourself. So if you have more than 12 items, you’re trying to squeeze your cart past you, while scanning the app on your phone for discounts, and then bagging everything in the appropriate bag. Okay, that last one might be just me, but I have cooler bags for cold stuff, and regular reusable bags for everything else. I know, I’m crazy, let me bag my groceries in peace.

Now, since I am now pushing around a cart that I can barely maneuver on my own, I am getting increasingly more and more concerned about how unbearable this checkout situation is going to be. Also, I haven’t even gotten the 20 lbs. of Italian sustenance that is a must for a man on the brink of extinction.

I shared these concerns with Sarah, and she immediately understood my woes. “Rebekah, you cannot get through the line with that much stuff! Stop shopping and Dad will be fine!” Okay, obviously, Dad will NOT be fine, but whatever, it’s the last thing on the list, I’ll figure it out. It’s going to suck, but I Do Hard Things, and checking out at Lidl with 1,000 items is definitely on the list of Hard Things.

I start loading spaghetti sauce in my cart and on the third jar, all the lights went out. All at once. At 10:30 in the morning. I looked around and nobody was screaming yet, so I wasn’t too concerned. But they didn’t immediately come back on. Then the refrigerator doors over the dairy products and meats started rolling down.

I mentioned these odd things to Sarah and she yells “GET OUT OF THERE REBEKAH.”

“No, I still need spaghetti for Dad.”

“Rebekah!! Forget Dad. He’s FINE. What if something happens to you??”

Reasonable point, all the people in masks had started making a mad dash for the checkout line, and that seemed almost as treacherous as staying in the very unstable store that may or may not be kicking me out or shutting down or just experiencing a minor apocalypse/power outage. Who knows?? The possibilities are endless.

Since my decision was clearly made, courtesy of the rush of people at the checkout line, I calmly told my dear sister.

“You know what Sarah? I just may die here.”

“OH MY GOSH REBEKAH JUST GET OUT. LEAVE EVERYTHING AND GET OUT.”

“Nope. If I can’t get out with this giant cart of spaghetti and other nourishment, it’s all a waste anyway. You guys will starve. I have to brave this.”

I could see the newspaper headlines in my head.

LOCAL WOMAN DIES IN VALIANT ATTEMPT TO FEED FAMILY.

WOMAN PERISHES IN GROCERY DISASTER, LEAVING FAMILY TO STARVE.

I just couldn’t let that happen.

So I did. I bravely collected not 10, but 11 jars of sauce (Who’s counting? Clearly not me), and 10 lbs. of spaghetti, waited until the mad rush was over, and slowly made my way to the checkout, where it took approximately 394 minutes to scan, bag and buy my food, all in the dark, and another 53 minutes to load my car. I did make it home safely, and so did the spaghetti. Thank goodness.

On a completely unrelated note, Dad is still fine. He has happily feasted on spaghetti at least once since this ordeal occurred, and has shown no signs of withering away. I know you all were very concerned.