I’ve officially given up grocery shopping.
Life is too short, as they say.
It started during the pandemic—having groceries delivered. I was okay with paying a little bit extra to avoid the crowds. I’m keeping myself and others safe, I rationalized.
I tried out a couple of stores and systems for ordering and delivery, eventually settling on a favorite. I managed to let go of things like inspecting my own produce—no need to micromanage, I decided.
Somewhere along the way, I began to notice what a time-saver it was, not having to stop by the store on my way home from work. I began to appreciate the absence of that particular errand. Weaving up and down the aisles, standing in line, navigating the crowded parking lot. . . I loved being able to grocery shop from home in my pajamas instead, choosing the day and time they would be lovingly deposited on my front porch.
I got really comfortable not grocery shopping, even as most of the rest of the world went back to the store.
Perhaps, too comfortable?
Because now, I can’t go back. I really cannot make myself.
I did try.
It was perhaps a mistake to choose New Year’s Eve day to venture back into the grocery store for the first time in almost two years. . . Of course it was a complete zoo, with lines extending back for miles, everyone grouchy behind their masks.
Imagine all that is unpleasant about grocery shopping packed into one sweaty, anxiety-inducing outing.
It may have scarred me for life.
The good news is that I don’t actually have to go grocery shopping. As much as it had been a (presumably) inevitable routine in life, I have discovered that it is not.
So, no guilt. No shame. Just not doing it anymore.