You know what I miss? Grocery shopping. You know, finding a parking spot in your usual location. Grabbing a cart. Meandering through every aisle. Getting the things on your list. Getting some things that aren’t on your list. And maybe even picking up things to make a dish that something you see in the store inspires you to make.

I follow the store plan. First it’s off to the liquor department in the south east corner. It’s just white wine here for me. After that it’s westward to cheese land. To be honest, I look at the cheese more than I buy it. Maybe I need some feta for a salad, or I have a hankering for a snack sized block of cheddar or Colby. But usually, no. I jog to the right and grab a gallon of spring water for my Keurig. (No tapwater for my coffeemaker. Not with my old plumbing.)

I hit dairy in the southwest corner. Do I need a half dozen eggs? Should I buy a pint of 2% milk or a half gallon? I might grab some Laughing Cow cheese spread and some “everything”-flavored pretzel chips.  Then it’s a trip northward to the hot bar.

If it’s 5:30 on a weeknight I might be hunting for dinner here. Do they have meatloaf today? Or chicken enchiladas? If I’m not looking for dinner, then I proceed to the deli.

There are three things that I might do here. First, I might be trying to score some sandwich meat. I prefer chicken breast over turkey because it has more flavor. And then I either get ham or roast beef (or if I’m feeling particularly saucy it’s Boar’s Head London Broil). I might, on the other hand just be trying to grab a wrap: teriyaki or Caesar chicken. The final thing I might be doing here is getting some deli salads for a summer get-together. They’re usually fantastic.

I might have to double back for some caffeine free Diet Coke and some K-Cups for my coffee machine. These are staples. No skipping that stuff.

Then I have the option to hit the salad bar. If I’ve hit the hot bar for tonight’s dinner entree I’ll surely be stopping here to make a salad to go with it. I fill my plastic container with crunchy romaine and then I drop a few leaves of red butter lettuce on top so it looks more colorful and nutritious. Then it’s shredded carrots, red onions, cucumbers, maybe a few black olives, two slices of hard cooked egg, plenty of bleu cheese crumbles, and then croutons.

I don’t bother with the tongs for the croutons. That’s a rookie mistake. I just pick up the little square hotel pan they live in and shake it over my salad until I have adequate crunch. No dressing at the salad bar for me. If I don’t have any at home I’ll snag some Wish Bone Chunky Bleu Cheese or, lately, some Hidden Valley Ranch in the nearby aisle.

The bakery section. I usually only buy sandwich bread, kaiser rolls, or brat buns. Ok, sometimes I get the little pretzel rolls. They’re great for sliders.

Do I need canned black beans? Crushed tomatoes? Chicken stock?

Do I need cereal? Granola bars? Oatmeal?

How am I fixed for napkins, paper towels, and toilet paper?

What about soap? Or heartburn medication?

Pretty soon I am facing down the meat section in what is nearly the northwest corner of the entire store. If I’m actually cooking something in the next day or two I might be on the lookout for andouille sausage, a pack of chicken thighs, or a four pound chuck roast. Who knows. And because they’re here and I love them, I’ll probably snag a quart of Claussen kosher dills.

We’re nearing the end. But first I have to navigate the frozen foods. I might be looking for a frozen pizza. But which one? Years ago my go-to was Jack’s original pepperoni, and it’ll still do in a pinch. Home Run Inn is a great choice. It’s costly, but you’ll get at least two meals out of it. Then there’s my latest darling, locally made Lipper’s  Their pepperoni and sausage pizza is divine and inexpensive. But nowadays I’m avoiding pizza anyway, so maybe I’m here for some lean cuisine or a frozen  burrito.

Produce is the home stretch. If I’m doing real cooking I might need an onion or some celery or some cilantro. Sometimes I’ll grab freshly cut up pineapple because I love it. Often I’m hunting the apple section, asking myself if I’m willing to pay for Cosmic Crisps or how the Honeycrsip are looking today. I love a good apple.

I can see the check out aisles. I’m on my way. And then there they are. The bins full of airline sized booze. Sure, I’ll grab a couple of Seagram’s 7 and throw them in the cart. Nobody saw me, anyway.

In the check out, I’m rarely–but not never–tempted to buy some chocolate. If I do it’s often Hershey’s with almonds. Their chocolate has a sweet, almost raisiny flavor that I enjoy, especially with the crunch of the almonds. If I buy one I’ll go home and put it in the fridge to chill for some snap. Then I will forget I ever bought it and rediscover maybe it six weeks later.

Then it’s check out time. I almost always need “a scan” because everyone who works there is 16 and I almost always buy alcohol. I have learned to live with this. I like that I do not have to bag my own groceries, though. Yes, I know that I pay extra for this, but I am happy to do so. I pay with Apple Pay on my iPhone. From there, I thank my checkout person and my bagger and happily proceed to roll my cart into the parking lot and to my car.

I miss that. I used to do that, or some version of that, 3 or 4 times a week. I love grocery shopping and I’m good at it! When this pandemic is over I’m going to stand in the middle of Sendik’s and cry because I will be home at last.