March 28th 2021

Today I continue to disrespect a Great British tradition: The Big Shop.

A combination of living so close to a supermarket plus a strangling inability to plan my life further than three days in advance means that I find myself in that Tesco almost every day.

If I had to drive there, perhaps I might plan my week’s meals properly, and stock my cupboards and fridge with more than just exactly what I need for that particular day.

It’s probably inefficient, and uneconomical — buying the day’s food almost every day. But I continue to do it. Sometimes I go more than once in a day, because I’ll need something for lunch, and then later on for dinner.

Sure, I could buy stuff for dinner when I go there to buy things for lunch, but I rarely think that far in advance.

I think I’d like to though.

Like, I think I’d like to start making a week’s meal planner and attempt to stick to it.

In fact, here it is:

  • Monday: Asian
  • Tuesday: Asian
  • Wednesday: Asian
  • Thursday: Mexican
  • Friday: Pizza
  • Saturday: Steak
  • Sunday: “Roast”

I couldn’t in good conscience write ‘roast’ without the air quotes, because, well let’s be real.

The rest of it looks good though. It’s basically exactly what I’ve been eating every week for the past year, except now it’s written down. I often have Mexican Thursdays. I always have pizza Fridays. I mostly have a Sunday “roast”.

I just never prep it that far in advance.

On one level, however, the supermarket is a kinda nice excuse to get out of the house.

That may be the most pathetic sentence I’ve ever written on this blog, and I’ve written a lot of pathetic things.

I’ve just realised that in the last year there’s probably no one I’ve seen in real life more than the ginger guy who patrols the Tesco self-checkout area.

No wait, that’s the most pathetic sentence I’ve ever written.

By this point, he and I are basically best buds. He knows not to ID me nor to judge me as I come back to buy a bottle of wine two hours after I bought the last one. (Two whole hours? You say).

It’s awkward really, because we’re both always wearing the same outfit every time we see eachother. He, his Tesco uniform. Me, black joggers and a black hoody.

Until tomorrow, is the pandemic over yet?


2 thoughts on “Disrespect

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