It's been a while since I've written. As in, let's not even count how many weeks have gone by. But just like my mother said, the longer you wait to do something, the harder it gets to accomplish it. So I'm diving in.
I make my epic return to tell you about how much I don't want to go to the grocery store. Normally, I love the grocery store. It is my weekly ritual. On Tuesdays, I drive to Publix. I endeavor to spend as little as possible, but feeding yourself is not cheap. If it gets much more expensive, Thomas and I will go back to processed food. We'll eat store-brand Spaghettio's daily. Maybe some soup. Canned milk. Canned fruit. As it stands, we are doing quite well in our quest for healthy food and shopping the perimeter of the grocery store. However, relying on fresh stuff does not give us a fighting chance should the zombie apocalypse happen. You really have to pick your battles. If you'll check the calendar, you'll notice it's Friday. I still haven't gone this week. I just want to take a nap. Forget food.
Let's also speak for a minute on snow. While it seems like everyone north of the South Carolina/North Carolina boarder was getting snow, Charleston experienced some balmy weather, to the extent of 79 or 80 degrees some days. Perfect weather in my mind. It's back to this 55 degree nonsense and I have to put on a coat when I go outside. All I have to say is that when it comes time for Thomas to get his next orders, we better be going to Georgia, because if we get sent to Groton, you'll find my cold, dead, frozen, Southern carcass in the Connecticut street with the snow slush. I don't know that I would make it out of there alive. Maybe I'll just need new clothes. I probably don't even know what a real winter coat looks like. Do people really wear long johns outside of Little House in the Big Woods?
But, at the very least, my mother taught me (along with every other good Southern mother, I'm sure), that despite living near the beach, we do not go out in public dressed in our bathing suits. Swim suits are not clothing, despite what the Yankees wear in our grocery stores and in Target. An XXL t-shirt covering your tiny bikini doesn't make it better. WEAR PANTS. We are buying food for our tables, to feed to our families- we don't want to see that.
So don't worry, Mom. I'm going to the grocery store (...at some point today), fully clothed. With dry hair. I'm even wearing shoes that require socks. And I'm wearing the socks.