and now another post about domestic labor.
When I need a supermarket, I shop at this huge, lovely Loblaw’s over in the old train station on the east side of town (rue Rachel, for the locals). Although Carrie sometime comes with, I’ve done the majority of grocery shopping for years now. Shortly before I left Pittsburgh, I noticed that at the Giant Eagle store they started moving stuff around. Like every week. It was hugely frustrating, as it meant I had to think about where to find things and spend more time in the store, rather that doing my chore and getting out. Which was, I imagine, exactly the point. Anyway, the Loblaw’s on Rachel is like that, except that I think a crazy person, or someone who really enjoys hallucinogenic drugs, is in charge of their stocking. It’s not just that stuff gets moved around but that from week to week it is impossible to predict on what days there will be diet soda in stock, good quality produce, or various veggie-meat products in stock that are favored by our household. Never mind using the same conditioner or deodorant from week to week. I thought maybe (and forgive me for saying this), it was some kind of laid-back Quebec thing I didn’t get. But today, as I was walking out, I noticed that the magazine shelves were almost completely empty. Which is clearly some kind of screwup because it looks bad and doesn’t get anybody to spend any extra time in the store. Why don’t I shop somewhere else, you ask? Because I’m lazy. Actually, I like to hit the marche maissoneuve for produce and fresh goods whenever possible, but sometimes you need a supermarket.
Case in point: Today, in the cleaning goods aisle, I am loading four(1) containers of the rubber-nipple covered swiffer liquid into my cart when a woman asks me, in French, if my wife likes the swiffer wet jet. At least that’s what I think she asked me (i know she said “femme” at one point). I said “oui oui! ce tres bon!” but that doesn’t really capture it, now does it? I thought it odd that she assumed that I didn’t do the mopping, but then it’s really not that odd, is it?
One for the spam archives: I just got a “Nigerian Scam” email with the subject like “please I need your urgent ass”
1. While we were gone, they had to jackhammer the concrete in the laundry room to replace a pipe. There’s a lot of cleanup to do.