Groceries

For Sunday, Other Items Should Be Purchased on Wednesday

Grapes

Take a photo when the man with blue gloves steals a grape. Catch him in the act. Don’t be discreet about it. Let him see you take the photo. He’ll pop a grape into his mouth right in front of you. Is it a seduction? Are you able to be seduced? There are cameras all over the store. Who does he think he is nourishing himself in front of you in such a way? Security will show up and ask you why you’re taking photos of him, but they won’t ask him what he’s done. They won’t inquire about the missing grapes. They won’t listen to you. They’ll take you to a back room where they’ll interrogate you about breakfast cereals and almond milk. All the while, you’ll be taking pictures of them, but they won’t care. They’ll ask you about speeding tickets and littering violations, but they won’t let you show them the photos you took of the man stealing the grapes. As they were pulling you away, he took another four or five grapes and threw them on the ground. Such waste. Such waste in a world where people are starving. They let you go after an hour, but by then, it’s time to go home. You’ve spent too much time in the market. You run into your neighbor and she invites you over for a few drinks later in the evening. You show up with some underbaked cookies and she pretends they look fine. You discuss the recent abductions. People who’ve gone missing. She tells you that she’s sure it all makes sense to the people in charge. When she says “in charge,” she points up, as though some deity was working alongside the government to kidnap people for no discernible reason. She offers to top you off, and you accept. You don’t tell her about the man stealing the grapes. Your stomach begins to ache.

For Monday, Other Items Should Be Purchased on Wednesday

Leg of Lamb

You’ve never purchased a leg of lamb before, but your horoscope this morning told you that you should make lamb for dinner. Your husband hasn’t been home in weeks. His parents keep calling, asking where he is, and you keep making excuses for his absence. You talk about work and golfing and getting more rest. His mother likes hearing that. Yes, he should definitely get more sleep. You took a photo of your husband before he left for work the last time you saw him. He scowled at you, because he hates you and he hates your camera. You fantasize about his wheels coming loose on the highway, flipping his car, and sending him careening off an overpass. The trouble is, you don’t want anyone else to be hurt. Just him. Have you manifested his death somehow? You’ve received no calls about an accident. Work called to say that he showed up, and then two men in ill-fitted suits showed up and asked him to go get lunch with them. Is that how it’s done now? A confiscation masquerading as a lunch invitation? Your husband doesn’t even eat lunch. You’ve never seen him eat lunch. He’s never eaten lamb either. You don’t know how to cook lamb, but there are instructions online. After you get past the ads about climate-proofing your home and better security systems, you can watch a professional cook a lamb. Your horoscope said that today you’d be content with your lot, and you’re not sure what that means. Is “content” like “happy?” You’re not happy…are you? Does “content” mean you know you’re not happy, but you’re alright with it? That would come closer to describing your current state. Your husband’s parents are going to tell you to call the police when they find out he’s missing. They won’t accept that the police are the ones who took him. His father identifies as a Conservative. He reads books about Stalin and seems to be developing an empathetic attitude towards him. Last Thanksgiving, right before the six-week power outage, he said to you “Nobody understands that wielding power ethically is an impossibility.” You asked him to pass the gravy. Are you supposed to put gravy on lamb? You take a photo of the butcher cutting up the meat. When he’s done, he asks you if you’re happy. You tell him you’re content. He seems satisfied.

For Tuesday, Other Items Should Be Purchased on Wednesday

Paper Towels

You stack the paper towels into a paper towel tower. You take a photo of what you’ve done. You wait for security to come. You wait for them to take you back into the back room. You want to answer their questions this time. You know all about breakfast cereal now. You know how almond milk is made. When you couldn’t sleep last night, you learned as much as you could about groceries. About food production. About what dairy does to the body and what non-dairy alternatives do to the environment. You received several warnings on your laptop stating that you were looking at illicit material and if you didn’t stop, your Internet privileges would be revoked and your name would be given to the local authorities. You’d be surveilled. The implication being that you aren’t already being surveilled. Why isn’t security coming? You’ve knocked down your tower twice and rebuilt it and nothing has happened. You want to be seized. You want to be detained. You want to ask where your husband is. Supermarket security won’t know, but when you refuse to comply, they’ll call the real police, and the real police will take you wherever they take people who do not comply. You think about going to the soda aisle, opening each bottle, and pouring its carbonated schlock down onto the floor. Oh, but that would be waste. You cannot abide creating waste. Even if the waste is liquid erosion that isn’t fit for human consumption. You grab a single roll of paper towels and make your way to the front of the store. It’s there that you see four security guards standing over a woman who’s lying on the ground. She looks to be in her early seventies, and she’s splayed out as though they’re each about to grab a limb so they can draw and quarter her. One of the security guards is asking her why she’s paying in cash. She’s saying something, but it’s in another language. You don’t recognize the language. Another one of the guards says he thinks it’s Portuguese. “Why the hell are people still speaking Portuguese,” the first guard asks. You take a photo of the woman on the ground. A third guard looks at you. You hold up the paper towels at him and smile. He shakes his head. He must think you’re crazy. He might be right about that.

Items That Should Be Purchased on Wednesday

A Birthday Cake

Candles

Balloons

It’s not your birthday. Why are you buying items for a birthday party when it isn’t your birthday? You’re no longer answering the phone. Your in-laws are leaving messages threatening to phone the police. You want them to. You want the police to show up. They know you haven’t done anything to your husband so what would they say if they were standing at your doorstep? Maybe you could ask them a few things. Maybe you could read them their rights. Your neighbor stopped by last night. She asked you if you’d heard about the old woman that died at the supermarket. She’s slurring her words. She calls the woman a “suspected terrorist.” You didn’t know they made Portuguese terrorists. You try to see the world as a student film. Quirks where the fear should be. Satire where it’s all blinding truth. Your neighbor asks if you want to come by in the afternoon and swim in her above ground pool. You tell her you can’t. You say you’re throwing a birthday party. She asks whose birthday it is. “Your husband’s?” You fake a small asthma attack and close the door slowly. Today when you get home, you’ll blow up the balloons, place the cake at the center of the table, and light every candle in the box. Then, you’ll take photos. You’ll take photos of the spotless kitchen. The bathroom with a leg of lamb placed in the tub. The bedroom where the bed is covered with paper towels. The living room where every wall is covered with photos of a man stealing grapes. It’s all out of control, but not the kitchen. The kitchen is spotless. You’re still going to eat that leg of lamb, you tell yourself. You’ll take it out of the tub as soon as the party is over and eat it, because you won’t create waste. You’ll use each of those paper towels somehow. There must be a mess somewhere, and if there isn’t, there will be. You just need to wait. As for the living room, there’s nothing wasteful about it. A photograph can’t be considered wasteful. It doesn’t matter what it’s a photo of.