“You shouldn’t go shopping when you’re hungry!”
We’ve all heard this one, right? How a hunger-shop will see you piling up your trolley with mounds of cake, pizza and other foods with very little nutritional value. And once you get home and eat half of it, you’ll realise that (a) you’re full, (b) you’re still unsatisfied, and (c) you now have shitloads of cake and no desire to eat it.
But there are other times you shouldn’t go shopping, either. What are they?
When you’re exhausted, because you’ll end up buying stuff you don’t need in a kind of tired fugue state. Your receipt will probably center around caffeinated products or comfort foods. Perhaps an extra blanket, or some woolly socks.
Related to this is the ill-advised drunken shopping trip, which is never a good idea. Although sometimes it can be hilarious. But the chances are that you’ll wake up the following morning wondering why you decided it was absolutely necessary to buy a high-end cheese toastie maker. Your hangover might give you the answer to that, though. Nothing like oozy grilled cheese slapped between a couple of rounds of carbs to make that nauseous feeling recede.
When you’re ill, because fuck that. Get someone else to do it for you. No one should have to brave the bright lights, long queues and grumpy shoppers of most supermarkets when all you want to do is stay in bed.
And the final time?
It’s definitely not a good idea to go shopping when you’ve recently discovered that your mother is coming to stay with you for an indeterminate period of time, and the panic has begun to set in.
Why is this a bad idea?
Because it’s like an accumulation of all of the above. You’ll have the nauseous, slightly ill feeling; that feeling when your body starts to get exhausted in advance of the tiring thing happening; the panicky butterfly-stomach feeling that can so easily be mistaken for hunger; and the adrenaline rush that feels like you might be a little drunk.
You’ll race around the aisles with just a basket, piling thing after thing inside until it spills over and you’re staggering around the supermarket under a bunch of stuff, gripping a mattress protector in your mouth because what if she doesn’t like the one you’ve got already?
Chocolate, wine, more wine, a different kind of chocolate, ramen, some new Japanese snap pea treats, more chocolate, a magazine, a bath towel, a face cloth, a better newer hot water bottle, fluffy hot water bottle covers, pizza, sheets of dried lasagna because MAYBE IT WILL MAKE HER LOVE YOU.
Then you’ll get home, stand in your kitchen surrounded by the physical proof of your depleted bank account, and wonder what the fuck you were thinking.
Resigned, you’ll put it all away and sit down in an armchair to count down the hours
of freedom until her arrival.
In totally unrelated news, my mother is coming to stay next week. 😉