You guys, I can't thank you enough for the kindnesses in your comments to the last post. If you haven't read those comments, they're worth casting your eye over. I couldn't respond to all of them, but I did to as many as I could, and I've been having the most amazing conversations with people about depression and how it affects all of us. Really, every adult human being has been depressed at some point. Why don't we talk about it?
Several of you mentioned The Great Grocery Store Walkout. I've done it myself. A cart full of goods, left behind, the ice cream melting, as you bolt because it's just too fucking difficult to decide between the expensive soft toilet paper and the recycled TP that feels like birthday streamers. I once panicked in Ikea and ended up buying a convertible, because it was easier. True story.
Reader Sandy had a good 'un for me. As a reward for being the most awesome readers in the whole wide world, I give you (with her permission) a great story that Sandy shared that had me rolling.
My ex sister in law came over from Scotland about 25 years ago. She came from a little fishing village that had the old fashioned baker, butcher, post office, etc. Small little village. Think smaller. Think about knowing everybody. When you wanted to do errands you grabbed your basket and went out to get a few things. However, her job had her moving temporarily to a suburb of Chicago where she subsequently met my brother in law and ended up marrying him. Anyway — I worked at the place she was temporarily transferred to and I was asked by HR to kind of show her around and make sure she knew how to get to the grocery store, put gas in her car, etc. Kind of a helper to the US way of life, so to speak.
So, I took her to the closest grocery store to her apartment. Costco. We got a parking spot, grabbed the big giant cart, and into the store we went. We got about halfway into the store and she had a full on panic attack! She was like GET ME OUT GET ME OUT! We abandoned the cart and I got her to the car. She sat there trying to gather herself and said "Hen!" (Scots call all women Hen) "Hen! I just need a wee bite to eat! What in God's Name is that place we were just in?" So I had to explain the concept of Costco to her and that it was closest to her apartment and I was so sorry and I thought there was less chance she would get lost if we went there. (Suburb of Chicago. Think lots of traffic. Now think more. Then think about her driving on the wrong side of the road…)
She said: "I'll starve first. I cannee go back in there. I cannee."
So I found a little 7-11 and took her in there. I think she ate Slurpees and overcooked hot dogs for about three months before she'd got the nerve to venture out to find a Safeway.
Grocery stores can slay the most intelligent well rounded women, I tell you!
How much do I love this? So much. Thanks, Sandy. And thank you, all.
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