Groceries

9:06 am, Albertsons.

Grocery shopping when hungry can be dangerous. As is shopping with offspring. For me, exhaustion unexpectedly showed it's inherit dangers. Remembering a list, for me, is an accomplishment. The Zen ideation of "here and now" spilled over into all facets of my life, for better or worse. Still, high spirits, high caffeine intake, and optimism led me to the store.

Staring at two cans of olives, only one of which I usually buy, was befuddling. The usual easy addition and division required(cans per week/ days Bella is with me) was as simple as teaching String Theory to a six year old.

The usual large circle of the perimeter was not to be either. There was no pattern, no logistics, only a disoriented lummox dodging left, right, and counter clockwise to all normal grocery buying behavior.  Of course, no list was produced.  However, I probably would've left it at work.

In short, I completely blew the budget, wasted an hour, and forgot quite a few things.

The trip to the gym after was even more confusing.

-Nick

A Daughter's Father's Diary, entry # 89.5: The Detangler.

A Daughter's Father's Diary, entry # 89.5: The Detangler.

Men like simple missions, simple instructions, and simple requests.

Today's was set to be an easy one. All roads led to Target, in which my task was to buy detangler for my child's insane head of hair.

Without such product, the jaws of life, two brushes, and some Yiddish prayers might get the mess down to a pony tail.

Being proud of myself for even writing a shopping list for this item(we've needed it for months) and getting to the building distraction free, the isle awaited.

There is a invisible Berlin Wall between women's and men's hair/body care sections at most stores. Target is no exception, daring to make the women's brighter and more sterile then a Herpes research lab. The men's section, merely an isle away, is darker and more macho than the Eastern Bloc. A vacuum for color, and hope.

I spend five minutes staring at the wrong women's isle. Oops, this is body lotion. A goddamn wall of lotion. Just lotion. Moving along, I suddenly smell cologne that is handed out in Men's rooms at mid-level hotels at the furthest end of the Vegas strip. It's dark again. Dammit, I'm in the men's hair care section.

There are Target associates wandering about, however the male ego, stubbornness, and determination kept me from getting a ridiculously easy question answered.

An aside: There are many potential ex-wives running about any Target, anywhere. Intentionally staffed this way? I don't know. But it doesn't help my destructive, lazer-guided focus.

Stumbling upon the correct isle, I went catatonic. Time froze. Tunnel vision set in. Voices appeared from above and below. Mushrooms are not a sufficient substitute for this full blown psychosis. Over, and over, my eyes searched for the word 'detangler.' "My kid's mom buys the shit here, WHERE THE HELL IS IT" was a phrase uttered more than I'd like to admit.

In a futile effort, I crossed the border back to the men's section. No avail. On to the kid's section. No avail.

This circus played on for what seemed an eternity, so more like 6 minutes. I made calls to those in the know. I cased the joint. I gave up hope in a God of my understanding, mankind, my gender, and myself.

Ultimately, I found the kid's version somewhere in the building, and since I was in a blackout of Bukowski proportions(minus the booze, just stupor), I couldn't tell you where.

After the ordeal, I get a return call from the kid's mom. Apparently, the kid's detangler doesn't work as well as the adults.

Too bad.

Two alternate dimensions are enough for today.

10/20/15 - Haiku - Dammit starbucks.

Diet mountain dew

Not what I was expecting

To buy a slow drip.

Beyond good and brief.

Make no mistake, they were both crazy.

Like, the crazy which at first is manic, and fun, but turns out to be a con, a bore, and much like everything else...his theory of life proving itself to be a zero sum game.  Nihilism at his best, he thought.

What he didn't consider was that maybe their exchanges and flirtations painted a bigger picture:  Instead of all bad, or all good, things could be okay, middle ground.  For the zero sum game, the counter balance of a rough experience could provide growth, or a path toward a stronger future.

The middle ground provided safety, and the lack of extremes, he was told, was where happiness may lie.

"I don't understand happiness, but I understand contentment."  And as of right now, her hand in his, was enough.