the weekend slipping away, my thoughts turned to sunday evening dinner; a sort of workingman's Last Supper before morning brought rushed, efficient meals and bad coffee at the office. my bout with food poisoning (i realize that last time i claimed to have food poisoning, it was actually alcohol poisoning and had me bedridden for a day after, but this time it was really food, i promise) having seemed to run its course, i had regained my appreciation for food and was ready for something not crouching in my freezer or cupboard. chinese food sounded good, but i'd just eaten out the night before and my financial situation dictates that eating out happens only on occasion, so i abandoned that thought. in an effort to eat a bit healthier, i hadn't had potato salad for a while and suddenly it was apparent that it was time to have some around for a few days again. i hadn't left the house all day anyway, so a little time out was a good idea. on top of all that, my car needed gas. i keep track of how much gas i put in the car and how much i spend on gas (mostly because the fuel gauge doesn't work, but also out of nerdy interest) and thanks to living 5 minutes from work and 10 minutes from church, not to mention having very little social life, i'd managed to go 25 days without filling up. so, dressed in my midwinter's weekend uniform of black hooded sweatshirt with the Hey Mercedes logo on it, black converse chuck taylor shoes and cuffed blue jeans, i was on my way. from the time i walked down the steps from my apartment and maneuvered around an abandoned tricycle, something felt a bit different from usual shopping trips. this difference has been growing the last few weeks. it started small but resolved, noticeable but not sure if it would stay around or not. however, it was a difference in me that has been part of my perspective on shopping trips, at work, etc., lately.
i proceeded down the road, a "karaoke superstar" fronting the Beatles' single version of "Revolution #9" and then calming the crowd down with Oasis' "Champagne Supernova" (not how i'd really prefer to die, but a beautiful song nonetheless). after pumping my gas, it was on to across the street to Baker's, a large grocery store.
jogging into the store, i was immediately faced with the temptation that is clearance-salad valentine's candy. 75% off a box of chocolates made me pick it up, then regain my self-control and put it down. the bargain-hunter in me wanted to buy it to send to someone, but cheap-ass valentine's day candy sent through the mail somehow just didn't sound like a good idea. i have an odd fascination for the fish counter, so i wandered by, a belle & sebastian song in my head. no one is ever there so i can look at the fish lying on the ice and allow myself to see some sort of odd ironic beauty in it. this time, though, whole catfish was 50% off and for the price, i figured it would make for a great inexpensive but tasty (and very importantly, different) meal down the road, so i picked some up. my potato salad in mind, i strode past open freezers and coolers, picking up pints of milk and orange juice along the way. country potato salad was on sale for $1.99/lb., old-fashioned $2.49. sometimes, though, the country kind just doesn't suit me so i asked for a sample (knowing from previous experience they would give me one). a potato salad connisseur, decided that old-fashioned was the best choice and moved along, hoping the check-out lines weren't too long, grabbing a box of vegetarian fake chicken patties (quite tasty, actually) before looking for the shortest line. i opted for the express self-checkout, where i stood and watched two people not be able to master the concept of "do-it-yourself" and ask the cashier to show them how to do it (these self-checkout units have only been around in this store for a month or two) before finally scanning my items, sliding the card, saying "i hope yours is good, too," and walking across the black asphalt, hoping my memory was right. the songs i covered on the way home were "leaving town" by dexter freebish, then, the difference in me manifesting itself vocally, a very emotional rendition of David Bowie's "Heroes."
so...what's this difference?
well...intrinsic in every single person's psyche is this little spark of hope that when you're out buying groceries or filling your gas tank or renting a video, you'll somehow hook up with someone else. you realize it's silly, you may not like meg ryan movies, you may never tell anyone, but you still secretly hope that you and that cute girl will both reach for the same movie or be standing in the same line or both be eyeing the potato salad at the same time. i used to have this sick fantasy of meeting someone at the library and making out right there amongst the dewey decimal system. however, when one finds someone really quite special, that desire goes away. i suppose that's one way to know what's going on is real. i hope it does for me someday.