Like any working wife, I’m trying to make it all happen. The glamorous office job where I sit glumly in a cubicle, the perfect home filled with anthropomorphic creatures and piles of dirty laundry that I really should do because Eric does the laundry 95% of the time, and of course freshly prepared home cooked meals after a long hard day in my pantyhose and heels.
I wear neither pantyhose nor heels, and I make dinner about once a week. Maybe twice. But I mean, a girl tries. Moving on, in my effort to be the perfect wife, worker, and contributer to society, I did some grocery shopping over lunch today because I want to take dinner to this pregnant girl I’m friends with, because it looks like, at any moment, the baby might tae-bo kick, a la Billy Blanks, its way out of her tummy and into the world.
So I was strolling through the ghetto Albertson’s by my apartment talking to my mom and drinking my Diet Dr. Pepper, throwing items into my cart, and trying to remember everything I needed for this really amazing pasta that I love and Eric is afraid of because he has a serious problem with cilantro.
After loading a concerning amount of carbs into the cart, I thought a little citrus was in order and, my don’t those oranges look delicious. I threw about 6 of them in a bag and then proceeded to check out. But like I said, I was distracted.
I thought the total seemed a little high, but I figured I must have just miscalculated in my head. After taking my groceries to the car I checked my receipt. Usually I feel like I get a better deal at Albertson’s with my preferred savings card than I do at Smith’s. But not today my friends, not today.
Why was my total almost $30 instead of $20????
THOSE DAMN ORANGES. 9 bucks! 9 dollars, for like 5 or 6 oranges.
I was outraged, and shocked.
I don’t care about getting my vitamin C that much. Bring on the scurvy.
But I’m not going to take them back and hoot and holler, because then I would hate myself even more than I do for blogging about expensive produce.
And I wonder why I’ll sometimes get random “Mommy Blogger” ads from google.
I’m gonna go eat one of my million dollar oranges.