At the end of my half ass working day of writing, while additionally feeding dogs, cats, squirrels, birds and other animals I don’t even recognize on our block, I need a break.
Having a love affair with food, and cooking it when it’s fresh, walking through a grocery store is usually my place of solitude, unless some fool is playing, “Let’s Get Physical” by Olivia Newton John over the loud speaker. It absolutely ruins the one hour break I have before my wife comes home, stinking of culvert maintenance.
Being one of this store’s best customers, who also suffered through Duran Duran’s “The Reflex” while purchasing “forty dollars a pound Copper River Salmon”, the freshness of the fish allowed me to give the store a pass. However, listening to “Let’s get physical” bursted the buttons on my newly dry cleaned blouse. After sarcastically having a chat with the cashier regarding this critical dilemma, he applauded me by laughingly pointing out the man who I should “get physical” with, regarding this grocery store musical crime.
Assuming I’d be banned from this store, instead, I was given a badge of courage by the other hard working members of the store, all collectively agreeing with me.