Sexuality Happens

This is totally not sexuality related…but I think you can handle it.

I forgot how much I love late night shopping. And when I say late night, I mean somewhere between 1am and 5am…so I guess it’s truly early morning shopping.  I went tonight, after a 2am gym run (also brilliant), and god, I just fell in love with it all over again.

Me, the solitary car in the parking lot, my choice of spaces. Once inside, no screaming children, no cranky old ladies slowly pushing their carts down the exact middle of the aisle. 

Down some aisles, there are boxes and dollys; time for me to navigate this hardcore shopping cart obstacle course.  Other aisles show me a man scanning items.  We banter back and forth as we dance the “I need to be where you’re standing…” “Now I need to be where YOU’RE standing” tango.  In the produce section, I am completely alone, the only sound the misters going off as I ponder which of the fresh items I want – all the fruit and vegetables having literally come in off the truck, some of it still sitting in its boxes next to the stands.

I am free to meander the store, stopping only for the old man pushing the floor waxing machine. He smiles at me, I grin back. As I pass two women stocking shelves in the dairy section, I overhear bits and pieces of their conversation about raising teenage daughters, and how much freedom one should allow them. Continuing on my shopping spree, they fade out. I can shop at my own pace, picking what I want, not rushed, not slowed by other shoppers either. It’s actually quite zen.

Only the self check out is open…so although I have a cart full of items from my bi-monthly grocery excursion, I am destined to scan them all myself. I love scanning my own purchases…perhaps because they didn’t have it when  I was a kid, and I have always wanted to. And the best part? Leisurly bagging my items. I have a system that is a cross between canvas bag tetris, fitting the items in as perfectly as possible, and my mental Excel spreadsheet, putting all the fridge items in one bag, the freezer ones in another, and the bottled drinks in a third bag as they can remain in my car until my next trip up.

I strike up a conversation with the customer service woman who has come to help me with my larger items (two very large containers of cat litter crystals).  She tells me how much she loves working the night shift; because it’s quiet, far less stressful, and the people she meets are much more polite, more interesting, and less hurried and harried. We wish each other lovely evenings, and I thank her for her help.

In the parking lot, there is one car driving by the front of the store. Even though I’m no where near the crosswalk, it slows down to a stop, allowing me to cross to my car, even though it could have sped through there before I even started to cross.  People ARE more polite at 4:30am.

I finish loading my car, and begin to walk my cart to the front of the store.  The buggy wrangler meets me halfway, nodding his thanks.  I wish him a good evening, and then hop in my car.

It sounds silly, but grocery shopping at odd hours is incredibly relaxing to me. I come home finally ready to sleep. Yoga stresses me out, meditation bores me to tears. But wandering the aisles of my local super market? One of the most tranquil things I’ve experience, outside of floating in bodies of water, or getting a massage.

So here is my ode to you, to late night grocery shopping. You are calming, and soothing, and help me to center myself. I thank you for that.