Soylent Green is PEOPLE!

I refused to believe that Irene was actually coming. It’s all hype. She’ll be a big fat no-show.

Try telling that to the masses though. They were not buying it.

What they were buying was groceries.

But I wouldn’t find that out just yet. I had hair cuts to deal with.

Pat has really short hair and a fussiness about keeping it just right. Hil has really blonde hair that turns green in the pool. They are hairstylist nightmares – unless handled just so. And I am sure I don’t need to tell you which parent, between the two they have to choose from, refuses to make the effort at handling them “just so.”

It’s not that I go to a Hollywood stylist, or invite the follicle advisor to the White House to my home for a private clipping. I go to a walk-in only place in a strip mall that gives you your 13th cut for free. It’s just a matter of making sure that Pat’s stylist is there when we go. So really, it’s a phone call.

But the Chosen Stylist has been on vacation for two weeks (he must get some pretty good tips!) and Pat’s hair is Out Of Control. Hil’s has taken on the look of Kermit the Frog. School starts in a week. Gotta go get the locks done.

And of course, the only day that weekend that we are around, and The Golden Stylist is around is Friday. And I have already been delayed an hour in Exodus traffic.

But we go, and the kids are looking fabulous and I am shelling out fees, and tip money and buying the extraspecial, clarifying, superstripping shampoo that could take the finish off my kitchen floor for Hil, she is so thrilled with the texture of her hair an the fact that it has resumed a normal human shade.

It is well past prime afterwork shopping time, and I have not even been home yet. Time for plan B.

There is a tiny little Superfresh market in the strip mall. It is so small it holds one variety of everything and will be too small and too picked over to do my shopping in. It is really only there to serve the otherwise shut in population of the high rise across the lot that is occupied solely by retirees. It is where they take their daily walk to buy a bag of groceries that they carry home in an effort to thwart the threat of osteoperosis.

My plan is, I will fly in, grab two frozen pizzas for the kids to make for themselves, dump them at home to fend for themselves and feed the cat while I bomb at neck breaking speed to the BIG Superfresh on the other side of town.

Not so fast.

No really. Not so fast.

The store is mobbed. The lines are half way down the aisles. The self-check out is even crowded. But I have only two items so the self check out is the way to go.

The lady in front of me has made the same decision, but she has a full cart. Staples. Essentials. Non-essentials. Scotch tape. Videos. A magazine! Worse, she has evidently never used the scanner before (just released from prison????) and is confused that waving the bananas in front of the scanner is not recording their price. She needs the attendant, but the attendant is busy helping return carts and market baskets to the front of the store so the rest of humanity can come on in and shop. The lady gets frustrated with the uncooperative bananas and scans the video. Ooops. That’s way too much to pay for this dumb story. It’s not even Disney. Again. Will need the attendant. It’s got to be removed. She is still relocating carts and baskets. Let’s move onto packages of meat with Coupons attached…

In the mean time, the man next to me is completely losing his grip. He is holding just a bunch of fresh Cilantro. Can’t imagine how bland that recipe must have been for him to come out for THAT in THIS.

I am finally past the full-cart mess, and onto my scanner. I am tempted to just treat the guy to his cilantro, but instead hurry to pay and leave. I am not at all sure that what awaits me in the big Superfresh is not full on Soylent Green chaos.