Why is it that I ALWAYS end up going to the grocery store on Super Bowl Sunday? It's like I'm physically incapable of remembering to buy some completely essential thing until the worst possible day to shop.
Naturally, because I like to up the ante idiocy-wise every year, Luke had to come with me to Albertson's today. He was an absolute angel the whole time, unlike the 20-something man we encountered in the frozen food aisle who ran past us yelling "Get in the fucking line already!" to someone on his cellphone while also steering a cart that, I kid you not, contained at least a dozen cases of Bud Lite.
We got out unscathed, and I am once again pledging to never, EVER go to the supermarket on Super Bowl Sunday again. Until next year, that is.
*****
Edited to add: Thank goodness the Giants won. Perfection is boring. Not that I watched the game--I've spent the evening participating in the anti-Super Bowl: a "Sex and the City" marathon accompanied by brownies and vegetarian chicken nuggets.
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