I slept unusually late this morning and on the horizontal. One cat was stretched out on the right side of the bed, hip level and taking up her third and the other was directly across and in the same position, claiming an equal stake in territory. That left me with a small space between their tails which I could lay flat on my back, legs straight through. or else,But because I sometimes sleep like someone who has been hit by a bus, contorting my limbs on all directions, I ended up at the top half of the bed, arms and legs among the pillows. It was a poor economical use of bed space and I woke up with crick in my neck but strangely, almost bubbly, happy. I dreamed about outdoor festivals and space travel and best friends and I woke up thinking about what color I’d paint the world today.
This sort of excessive and uncomfortable sleep and buoyant feeling upon waking is something I forgot happens when coming out of a disassociation (need better words!) Today I felt both centered and scattered, connected back to belief, to ideas and inspiration, a plan, a path and yet I paced around my house interrupting one activity for another. Mid teeth brushing, I start washing dishes. Mid blog writing I took a shower. Mid watching Burlesque (with Cher and Christina Aguilera) I did yoga. Oh yeah, this is what happens too.
It takes a couple sleep cycles to return to baseline. (Words, words, words!)
I am down to liquid eggs, pickled okra, a carton of oj and tortillas. I’ve been living on apples and peanut butter, and left overs all week and my refrigerator is gloriously empty. The freezer is full and so is the cupboard so that leaves just the empty white canvas walls of fridge, beckoning me. Its says, “do the right thing, cut out dairy for good and stop the speculation on the root of your soft stools.” Its been two weeks since I’ve gone to the store and it was two weeks before that. Errands are stressful. Going out is confusing and jarring. Peoples eyes dart above their masks, its hard to breathe under mine, which is just a bandana or a scarf. I feel like a criminal just for being out.
But tomorrow is the day and so I am collecting recipes and making a shopping list on my chalkboard. The items on the list are arranged according to sections of the downtown Boise, Winco. One reason I stick to that store, besides it being generally less expensive than the others, is that I know where everything is. First you have to get past the quick buys- the seasonal stacks. Gram crackers, marshmallows and chocolate bars are a summer favorite. Things like canned cranberries and stovetop stuffing are popular during the holiday season. Usually there are a stack of La Croiux I pull from and sometimes Ill cave and grab a box or two of Annie’s. But generally I just try to avoid spending to much time in “welcome” section for it is a slippery slope to Wildflower Cookies. The apples are might at the end of the tunnel, my focal point. Fruits, veggies, and tofu is over there along with the refrigerated salad dressing, like my favorite cesear. After that I swing into bulk for the grind your own peanut butter which is likely no longer in operation. Bulk foods are on Haitus right now. Sensible but yet another bummer.
I stop mid blog to send a text to someone who upon our first hang we happened to go grocery shopping together. She told me about how she gets all flustered and scrambled in there and ends up buying things she doesn’t need and forgetting the things she went in there for. The way she talked about it and the way she walked around the store in a short of disoriented daze, brought me back to my pre EMDR (or trauma specific treatment) days. I asked her if she had a lot of trauma if her life as a child and she said she had and well, there you have it. Something no one talks about, someone people suffer through alone- just getting through the freaking grocery store.
Anyways this is where in my shopping I always hit a snag. I usually proceed onto meat, deli, cheese section but then if I want any canned goods, toiletries, condiments or tortillas, I have circle back to the middle section and my path through the store drastically reduces in efficiency. Those are long aisles, often clogged. Hmmm…. thought. Maybe I’ll try to park my cart in the wine section, after groceries and walk those aisles without my cart, and before heading to bulk. Its just that he peanut butter can be a process and it calls. So from the meats, you pass the beer and go into dairy and juice, on the other side of that are your frozens and then you get into the cereal, baking and spice aisles. Once I get here, its like I am on the other side, I’ve crested the mountain. Plus this is the section that fuels creativity, so its like a reward to even be in those sections. After that its all down hill- just cat liter and household supplies like scrubbies and laundry detergent. Im sometimes tempted by the mini donuts in the bread aisle or a fresh loaf of sourdough from the bakery but generally, I just head for whichever checker looks the most familiar and start to add up my purchases in my mind. I usually cringe and cross my fingers that I haven’t gone over my budget.
Bagging my own groceries is one of my greatest pleasures (in grocery shopping) and besides they fact that they are employee owned, the real reason why I am a Winco loyalist. You get to control the conveyor belt! Ah the power. Bagging my own groceries is a spacial exercise that is like a warm shower for my brain The functionality of proper organization, on how you will store foods on the other end, is also incredibly satisfying. Balance the weight, put the boxy stuff in the larger bags, stack vegetables in green bags with the greens coming out the top. The rotisserie chicken belongs nowhere, so it usually gets its own bag. Besides for purely environmental reasons, I am surprised more people don’t bring their bags back for how much better they suit this process. Your own bags are easier to work with cause you know them. They likely hold more, their handles won’t break and if you have a variety of them, like I do, it makes organizing accrording to size even easier.
Ok, well I think I’ve run the risk here of seemingly like a complete neurotic nerd, and thats probably enough. Quick question, is animal print going to be forever out because Carole Baskins definitely killed her husband? Is it ok to wear a faded leopard print now as, like a statement? Still processing. P.s. Stay at home order extended until the 30th today for Idaho. Thank god but also, oh my god.