Normally, I wouldn't be shopping by myself. I mean, usually it's my mom doing the shopping. But, seeing as it's her birthday and all, she decided to take a day off. Of course, neither my brother nor I actually wanted to go but I drew the short straw and here I am. Hell. Okay, Publix.

   This whole shopping thing is so stressful, I think to myself while I grab a cart. How am I supposed to know what's the better buy? Wait did I remember the list?! Frantically, I start patting myself down right there in the entryway. Succeeding in my search, I pull the crumpled list from my jeans pocket and quickly move out of the way, not oblivious to the angry group of people I have held up at the door. After they've sufficiently glared me down and made me feel bad about my life, they pass me and I start my adventure. I'd never thought I'd say that about the grocery store.  Looking at the first item on my list, bagels, I start my search for treasure, uh food.

   After I've knocked over my third display trying to do  a 90 degree turn on the corners while riding on the back of the cart, I'm seriously beginning to regret not appreciating those trips to the grocery story when I was little more. Life was so simple then, getting those cool race car carts and pretending to drive as my mom pushed me down aisle after isle, screaming in glee whenever her pace increased to a brisk walk.
   It's been 5 minutes and I still haven't found anything yet. That's totally not due to the fact that whenever I catch sight of someone in a green shirt and black apron I do a 180 and practically sprint in the opposite direction. Totally. I probably look so sketchy right now. Maybe that's why every time I turn my head the manager is not too far behind.
  But hey, it's not my fault that Publix employees are way too cheery and helpful for me to deal with right now. "Anything I can help you with today ?" Why yes, could you write that 10 page paper I have due in an hour. Oh and tell me where that stupid bread aisle is.
   Twenty minutes of frantic searching later, I think I've finally got everything. It wouldn't have taken that long but I couldn't resist trying to get a running start and ride the cart down, well, every single aisle. The only thing I didn't get is the milk. It's not my fault that I couldn't decide between 2% and 1% milk. Seriously, what's the difference? And what's with all these different kinds of lettuce? My mom didn't specify so I picked the kind that looked less likely to kill me.
   It doesn't hit me until I'm looking for a checkout aisle that's line isn't trying to rival one of Disney's: I actually have to go through the process of paying for this stuff. Oh no, no, no this is not happening.
   A terror sets in that can only be rivaled by the feeling one get's upon looking at a test and realizing that you studied the wrong chapter, and my mind went into overdrive. What if mom didn't give me enough money? Will I have to shamefully put back some of those horrible looking vegetables she put on the list? (Does she seriously think she can trick us into eating those?) Am I supposed to actually talk to the cashier or just keep my head down? Pretend I don't know English?  AHHHH!
   The slow lady with the screaming toddler finally paid for her last box of diapers and I'm up. Alright you can do this, breathe girl breathe. "$30.59," says the cashier, smiling at me. Shakily, I hand over the two $20 bills I had clenched in my sweaty palms. Oh boy, she's cute, I hope she doesn't notice that. From the grimace on her face as she holds the bills away from her body, I can tell she did.

     Turning to give me the change, the cashier also hands me a paper towel. "Wipe your hands," she says.
Thoroughly embarrassed, I quickly shove the assortment of coins into my back pocket, paying no attention to the pennies I drop in the process. The pennies that just made a racket like football fans on a game day. I'm pretty sure the deaf man two check out aisles over heard that.
    Flustered, I grab the paper towel out of the cashiers hand and start loading bags into my cart as fast as I can. I can hear her laughing at me and I just know this will be the funny story of the day that she'll be sharing at the dinner table tonight.
    Once I've finished loading the cart, I push it toward the exit in attempt to be the next land speed record setter. I've almost made it to the door when my untied shoelace catches on a display and I fall to the dirty floor, the cart speeding away with my dignity before crashing into the stack of shopping baskets.

   Wishing I could just disappear,  I run to the cart and bring out my inner track star as I all but sprint out to my car. Once I get there, I frantically start unloading the groceries into my trunk, stopping only when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Turning around I almost have a heart attack, it's the cashier. Before I can speak she shoves a piece of paper into my hand, "Here, you forgot your receipt."
   She disappears as quickly as she came and I am left with a racing heart and a crumpled receipt.