We seem to attract people wherever we go who want to tell us their life story and everything they know. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We were doing the University grocery shop better known as a feeble attempt to get good fresh food in there for the first week. Then they will decide to go out every night and then order pizza, then sometime around Thanksgiving find science projects growing at the back of the fridge behind the nail-polish and cold beer, which will then get thrown out.
Grocer comes over and says, “Those girls have spent along time in that corner with the green stuff trying to make a decision. And you over here trying to stay out of it. I am impressed.”
“Oh, don’t be too impressed I am trying to find the jubejubes, then hide them from them so I can eat them on the car ride home.”
This guy stuck to us like glue. He was dying to talk potatoes. And life. and love. “Stick to the outside isles and avoid the junk.”
“You’re preaching to the converted” I tell him. Now a crowd of enthusiasts gathering.
Her sister tried to help her make smart choices. She chose the boxed stuff. Can’t blame her as no one had to die for it. I think. And you don’t have to behead anything to have dinner. I think. (Although I do remember an arm wrestle over the last box when I was dirt poor and a student)
We got the requisite PB in the 2kg jar. When she interviewed her roomates she did not ask “Night owl, loose with boys, boring, messy or studious?” She asked if they were allergic to peanuts. It was a dealbreaker.
I will be fascinated to hear how quickly they get through this.