I bearded the dragon in its den and did the deed. There's something Freudian about getting in the truck to leave and remembering something vital forgotten in the house...twice. I do not like to go shopping, period. This was an unavoidable, major excursion that could not be put off any longer, so I pulled on my "big-girl panties" (the ones with good elastic) and went to the grocery store. In an attempt to minimize time and effort so I wouldn't have to cruise the aisles and backtrack, I'd organized the list by department; produce, meat, canned goods, etc., and in the order of approach. I get thrown into a tizzy when a store rearranges the shelves. I recognize it's a marketing strategy, but I like consistency. It probably took longer to get checked out than it did to fill the basket. It's a good thing I took note of the beautiful scenery on the way to town, the reds and yellows of turning leaves, the newly washed green of the hillsides, because I was shell shocked on the way home after writing the check. Yeesh!
Making it back before sundown, there was just enough time to unload the truck before putting the kids to bed, and I was shutting the last door in the barn when my milk customer arrived. We made our transaction while I was loading the cupboards and fridge. Later, I'm sure I just blinked during a commercial, waking much later to go to bed. Shopping tends to do that to me.