I have always hated grocery shopping. I am so easily distracted. Every aisle holds a treasure. (Ooooh. Saltine crackers! I haven’t had those for while! … Oh my gosh. They have individual, microwaveable quiches. How perfect for lunches!) It drives my family crazy — almost as nuts as going into a department store with me, where I find it necessary to stop and gawk at every mannequin and aisle-side rack on my way to our intended shopping area. My 21-year-old son has resorted to cradling my elbow as we walk, not-so-slowly guiding me in a straight line.
In recent years, the West Side has turned into a jungle of grocery store options: Target (if I can get there without being distracted by the exercise clothes), Fresh Thyme (not been there yet), Aldi (what is with paying for a cart?), Whole Foods (soaps! Salad bar!), Trader Joe’s (claustrophobic), Earth Fare, Heinen’s (love the salad bar!), Lucky’s, Marc’s (ugh) and Giant Eagle. Finally, the coup de grace: Costco. Oh. My. God.