Mondays are so hard for me. I don’t want to blame it on the fact that it’s a Monday, but it ain’t easy. The night before I was up late at the Massive Attack show, so I had that going against me. Then I had a huge pile of work waiting for me in the office, of which I have only made a small dent in, despite working through lunch. Then, on top of that, it was the season opener game of the office softball team (hey, we won!)
And did I mention that it was a Monday?
So I suppose, when I lay it all out there, I had pretty much the entire day working against me.
All I wanted to do after the game was buy some groceries—especially kitty kibbles—and relax.
Alas, it was not meant to be. I spent an hour at the No Frills on Victoria Park and Eglinton getting my supplies for the week. I marveled at the price! The variety! (I live in the Beaches…we don’t have corn tortillas in our cold food section) And then I found out they don’t take credit cards.
I left everything at the checkout and headed to the bus stop, dejected, tired and a little embarrassed. No one likes to have to leave their purchases because they can’t pay for them. I’m broke! I need to use my credit card! What normal grocery store does not take credit cards these days? I’ll tell you—NO FRILLS.
No frills, indeed.
Here’s where I had two options open to me: admit defeat, pick up a pizza and get the hell home, or try again a little closer to home. As I stood at the bus stop on Eglinton and Vic Park, cold and miserable and more than a little weary of the fact that I’m in deep Scarborough country, I decided to go the right route: I tried again closer to home. After all, I could scrounge up some food from my pantry, but the cat? Not even a dusty can of tuna around. So it had to be done.
Still, I had ten bucks in my wallet. Ten whole dollars. That’s at least worth a McDonalds value meal (if I don’t super-size the mofo.) So why didn’t I just do it? What’s wrong with me?! I even stood across the street from a McDonalds as I waited for my bus to arrive.
But, no. I bought my groceries and headed home. There’s a part of me that’s grown stubborn over the two years that I’ve lived by myself; having a stocked pantry and a decent supply of groceries stops me from buying take out more often than not. Yes, I have my days. I’m notorious for not packing a lunch (I lack forethought), but dinner is normally a process I make myself. Sometimes it’s enough for leftovers, even, which is always a boon, but damn it I hate those days where you try so hard, but it feels like the world is conspiring against you.
Yesterday was one of ‘em.