I was graced with the pleasure of Jeff’s company while I did my grocery shopping last Friday. It happens that way every other week on his off Fridays. There are three reasons why I love it when he joins me.

     1. He entertains Jayce with random tins of cumin, or cans of sliced olives, or coupon organizers taken from nearby shelves, thus leaving me free to shop away. Jeff also sneaks an occasional grape from the produce department when Jayce’s patience is running thin. Shhh, that part is our little secret!

     2. He bags the groceries. This is a huge bonus because grocery baggers have either stopped being trained or are more concerned with planning their iPod play list than they are with the fact that my two dollar and seventy-nine cent eggs ought not be stacked beneath a 5lb. sack of flour and enough canned goods to feed a small village.

     3. Once said grocery shopping trip is complete, he brings all those bags in from the car, thus freeing up more time for me to blog here for your reading pleasure. See, it benefits you too!

     So anyway, we made it through our regular rounds in record time and were in the midst of our produce section excursion (leaving only the frozen department to be conquered since I’m sure you’re dying to know how we map out our errands). We picked up our regular veggies: carrots, celery, red peppers (again, I’m sure the suspense was killing you). Next up was a head of lettuce and the arduous task of choosing one that wasn’t wilted or soggy (did I mention I’m choosy with produce?). Our last stop was at the apples.

     As I was eeying the Gala’s for bruises and dents I notice one of the heads of lettuce drop to the floor. Yeah, it was embarrassing because the produce guy just saw us over there and it was obvious that I had neglected to properly secure the lettuce after my perusal.

     Instantly I thought of an episode of Oprah I saw a few weeks ago where these Freegans (apparently it’s a common enough lifestyle to warrant a title) were complaining that grocery stores throw away enough food each day to feed thousands of hungry people. In case you’re not familiar, Freegans actually dig through trashcans on a daily or weekly basis to salvage edible packaged foods and produce. I know. Commendable I suppose, but way too high on the ick scale for me.

     So anyway, the produce guy starts walking towards the head of lettuce and I’m feeling more guilty with each step he takes because I, of course, am convinced that as he throws away that head of lettuce he’s going to be tsk, tsk, tsking in my general direction.

     He marches over to the lettuce and what, you ask, does he do? HE PUT IT BACK among the other heads of lettuce. No joke. HE PUT IT BACK.

     Um. Ew?

     C’mon now. I want to save our finite resources as much as the next gal, really I do. I have canvas grocery bags. I recycle everything imaginable. Heck, I rarely even get a shower so imagine the water I’m saving there. But c’mon. Do you have any idea how many people have stood, dirty shoes and all, in the precise spot where that head of lettuce landed? Not to mention the chemicals they use to clean those grocery store floors. It would be different if it were a potato. Potatoes go home to be cooked, maybe even peeled thus killing or disposing of the bacteria that may or may not have ended up on those lettuce leaves.

     In the same store, a couple of months ago, I witnessed a manager walk past a misplaced rotisserie chicken that someone had discarded on an endcap. He picked up that chicken and carried it over to that hot stainless steel display case thing where they keep the rotisserie chickens. You know the one, it’s where unknowing customers like myself may pick up that same chicken, completely oblivious to the fact that it may have been sitting on an endcap growing all kinds of unmentionable foodborne bacterias for far longer than is considered safe in foodhandling circles.

     If I’d had the time I should have approached Mr. Manager right then. Excuse me, dear Sir, I noticed that you just haphazardly replaced that rotisserie without giving much consideration to the fact that it may very well have been sitting on that endcap over there for an hour, maybe more. Have you no concern for the wellbeing of your customers? Have you not been properly trained as to the procedures of proper poultry handling? Hey Mister, I’m a letter writer. I suggest you rectify that rotisserie mishap my friend or force my hand.

     I’m not denying my spazticity. In fact, I’ll proclaim it from the rooftops. I’m just sayin’. Be careful out there people. It’s a dangerous world we live in. A dangerous world indeed.