Categories

An Evening at Trader Joe's

Trader Joe's Sign

Better than a bar, it's Trader Joe's

A few nights ago, I got the rare opportunity to leave the house alone. My destination? A Los Angeles nightclub? Nope. Trader Joe’s. I’m obviously a huge fan of this place, but my normal visit usually involves a stroller and a kid who may or may not be on the verge of a meltdown. I go  so frequently that it’s not some fabulous treat, except that I wasn’t carrying a baby, pushing a stroller, or opening a box of crackers to appease my toddler before I got to the register. It felt like I was at a party, or a bar, or just like … normal. Like “before kids” normal. I remember the first time I went out by myself after I had the Shnook. It was surreal. I went to the mall to return something. I remember feeling almost dizzy, and totally agoraphobic. I’ve since become more comfortable with leaving the house, even if it’s still pretty infrequent. Now when I go out, I like to play a little game with myself. It’s called:  “Nobody knows I have a baby.”

A bit self-involved, I’ll admit, but considering I spend all day talking to a little squirmy thing who talks back in a language I can’t fully understand, I feel I deserve this 20 minutes of selfishness and, I’ll admit, a tad weird behavior. Never mind the spit-up on my sweatpants, or that I’m wearing sweatpants.

While I was putting away my cart, a handsome TJ employee approached me and asked if I needed help. I sheepishly agreed when I realized I didn’t have three hands. I let him carry a bag and a pumpkin. The only thing I could think to talk about while we walked to the car was was how thrilled I was that I found a good pumpkin. The pumpkin excitement went on just a wee bit long for this probably twenty-two-year-old-fresh-out-of-college dude. By the time we closed my trunk I was pretty sure he was happy to return to his cart collecting duties. I guess my flirting skills are a little rusty.

Tagged as: , , , ,

Use a Facebook account to add a comment, subject to Facebook's Terms of Service and Privacy Policy. Your Facebook name, profile photo and other personal information you make public on Facebook (e.g., school, work, current city, age) will appear with your comment. Learn More.