What’s in the bag?
February 18, 2020 § 10 Comments
I caught a cold and have been doing everything I can to let it go but it likes me. It is especially partial to my throat.
I did everything I could last night to politely ask it to leave, then suggested it go hang out in the living room, and finally I set it outside the front door and called it ugly names, threatened a restraining order, etc.
Still, in the morning it was hanging around, so I put together a list of ingredients and went over to the Pavilion’s to get some heavy weaponry. At 6:00 AM the store isn’t very crowded; weird.
I got an onion. I got two leeks. I got a parsnip. I got a small box of mushrooms. I got a bunch of parsley. I got three carrots. I got four stalks of celery.
Can you see where this is going? Yeah, then I got a whole 5-lb. chicken. I totted it all up in my head while waiting in line and figured about $15.
The lady in front of me was also doing her day’s shopping. She looked about as frowzy as I did, and she cast an eye over at my food. I eyed hers, too. She had a bunch of, well, stuff. It was all frozen or pre-made and none of it looked very good, especially the big can of chocolate frosting.
Okay, the can of frosting looked awesome. But everything else? No, thanks.
Her bill for two middling-sized bags was $124.38. She had bought enough food for what looked like a day and a half, maybe two days, not counting the frosting, which was gonna be gone by 7:00 I mean 6:30.
The gal rang me up and it was, like I thought, $15.50 because, arithmetic. These raw ingredients were going to fuel my lunch and dinner for two days and beat back this cold. Of course I’d have to butcher the chicken, cook the soup stock, and chop stuff up, but still …
Around dinner time I got to serve up a bowl of the wonder drug Chicken Soup. Just the smell of it has made my cold germs feel unwelcome. And the taste? So good. I wish that lady lived next door. I’d give her a bowl so that she could see how all those packaged foods were one big ripoff.
On the other hand, she’d gotten to spend her morning with her snout buried in that can of frosting. So, there’s that.
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