Shopping for my Parents -Part 3!

I forgot the bloody list. I stood stranded in Super Valu amidst a sea of social distancing shoppers without the list. I went up to get the list. We talked about the list. I saw the list, so where the hell is it. I open my wallet and it explodes with lists.

Ah, shite. Too many lists. No dates on them. Who is to know which is the most recent one. I’m going to have to wing it. It turns out I pretty much know what they want now and can make my way around the shop allowing myself to be reminded as I pass the aisles. 

But of course, this won’t do. I’m going to have to give in and phone Mum. I can’t arrive home without something they need, a thought not out of altruism but because there is no way I’m coming back. So I phone. They laughed. After laughing for some time they tell me what they need. 

I’ve been shopping in Super Valu for about a year now. I still don’t get the self-checkouts. It’s only recently I noticed the ‘ brought your own bag’ button. Previously I used to trick the machine into not noticing the bag as I laid it down with the first item I scanned. I figured I was some sort of covert genius. How did other people manage it?  In fairness the button is huge, I don’t know how I missed it. I do think that being a bloke has a lot to do with it. We’re good at lifting things, watching TV, and avoiding talking about how we feel but otherwise, there’s not a whole lot else going on. 

I was feeling quite cocky about the whole self check out, figured I had it mastered until I had to buy some bananas. You would think Bananas would be in the fruit section. I’ve had previous scares when going to pay for Tomatoes, knowing they’re fruits but still doubting myself enough to create mild panic and sweaty palms. Bananas though hold no such conflict. They are a fruit. So where the f*ck are they? ...I press the button harder and harder in the vain hope that it will sense my anger and give up its secrets. But nothing. 

Why me Lord. I could lose it here right now. Cause of death, unable to scan bananas in Super Valu. Someone please tell me what is going on. And just like that an angel in a super valu uniform clicks a few buttons on the screen and turns it into a weighing machine for me to place my bananas on. Miracles do happen. I was saved. She was gone before I knew it or could thank her and bequeath my estate to her. I have no estate but it’s how I felt. 

I wonder is there an online course one can take on self check out machines. With questionnaires to ensure you’ve taken it all in and give me a sort of swagger when I shop rather than the current anxious trepidation. 

When shopping I refuse to wheel around a trolly because that is admitting defeat in all aspects of life. Similar to getting wheely luggage. It’s over then and you know it. It’s just a surrendered state of indifference. Where really all your doing is amusing yourself while you wait for it all to be over as you pine after your youth. 

This extreme vanity does affect my ability to shop and cater to my Mum’s mindblowing ability to consume cans of Tonic Water. I could fill a trolly a week with the little crates of cans that she hoovers through on a regular basis. What is it with the tonic water? Dad, on the other hand, consumes Ryvita like sweets. He must be very regular. Every time I shop for them Ryvita is on the list. 

I feel I actually know my parents better now through their shopping. It’s a real privilege to look after someone’s needs in that way. They really appreciate it and so do I. As things ease I managed a social distance lunch with them in the garden. It was a rare treat to be back in their company just eating and chatting like life pre COVID. It was the perfect afternoon until Dad asked me to set up the Echo Dot that I got them for Christmas. The launching of Alexa on their house had been delayed by the labyrinth of codes and passwords required to infiltrate Mums I- phone. This would require Dalai Lama type patience. It took me to the edge. But I just kept breathing. I was close, really close...and then an hour later... eureka!….Alexa speaks. 

The wonder on their faces was worth the trauma. Dad laughed at the idea of it. Mum spoke to Alexa extremely politely as if it was someone who had just moved in and now owned her house. They were like children with a new toy. It was magic. I didn’t mention to them the room full of spies that would now be listening in on their conversations. 

As I leave the house content beyond words I am struck with inspiration. I wonder if Alexa can do the shopping? 

But then realise all I would miss out on if that were to happen. So I say nothing.

It is then I notice the shopping list still sitting on the window sill.