Going to the super market is a ritual. It's a way to be alone with a multitude of mostly harmless information. It asks questions like, what's the average price of mayo on this self, not including the 'light flavored' jars that nobody really likes anyway or which is the greenest item on this corridor you could be seen wearing. There are things that scare me and only me and things that amuse me to tears always, like that bossy can of milk. There are inconsistencies I don't care to fix and optimal paths I never follow. Going to the super market, I am reminded why I shall never ever ever grow up.
[The carbon dioxide from the refreshment I got makes my nostrils flare up. Yup, it's cancer.]