neighborly
i like grocery stores. i could spend hours in there. sometimes i do. i was conditioned to grocery shop from a rather young age; would be sent to the store with chaotic lists of specifications, a lot of them stemming from the current ice cream status (e.g. "i want 3 cartons of french silk, and if they don't have that, then 2 cartons of butter pecan and one of moosetracks, but only the dreyers kind and if they don't have that then 1 carton of french silk, one of moosetracks, and one of strawberry"). guess-timations were not appreciated. i usually dig on the music they play at grocery stores as well; it's all about the soft rock and oldies to get me dancing and singing while searching for that can of beans. i get a lot of strange looks, especially when i interrupt my own singing/dancing/skipping/etc to talk to myself.

yup. that's right. i talk to myself.

i have been a little disappointed with my g-store adventures as of late if only for the fact that i have no atm card nowadays (long, drawn out drama), and apparently that makes me a criminal when i try to write a check for over the amount to get some cash. today, for example, i was told that i could only get cash if i had cleared at least 8 previous checks at that particular store. umm, no, i usually use my atm, so i can avoid this crap. feeling a little helpless and quite peeved, i returned to my car to find a familiar sight parked next to me. i dialed fiona's number, and after my boss answered the phone, she rushed out of the store to find me standing next to her car (and mine) in the supermarket parking lot. i think the reality hit for her that we're definitely neighbors now. and for me, well, i'll have to be careful about getting caught dancing in the bread aisle...