The supermarket is a treacherous and harrowing place. There you are, surrounded by all that raw stuff, insane people handling mammoth charts they have no business navigating, rolling down alarmingly narrow aisles as children do their best Exorcist impressions and stock people create tantalizing and terrifying obstacles as they work. It is not for the faint of heart. And it certainly isn’t for me.

But unfortunately, from time to time, I am forced to cross the florescent lit threshold into the horrifying realm of raw meat and frozen food products for the vital necessities. Mostly for half and half for my coffee. Occasionally I’ll pick up some chocolate chip cookie dough as well. Rarely though. That section of the supermarket is way too far away from the exit for my taste. I like to get in and out.

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