The Loaf

I ran a stop sign on the way to get a loaf of bread. I do not feel bad about it. If there was a cop there watching, I still would have done it while giving my best Bo Duke rebel yell. I then would have found the nearest dirt road to ditch him on and complete my maneuvers by jumping over hay bales in my SUV. Don't worry, I stayed at a holiday in last night, it's cool.

I have to get to the store quick to get more than one loaf of bread. It's personal now. I have to get there before all the weekenders show up and take all the bread. The weekenders, they are my nemisis. They are the people working all week and then descend on the grocery store like locusts every weekend. It starts on Friday around 4 and doesn't let up until Sunday night. After they are done, it's like the zombie invasion has come and all the supplies are gone besides one can of cream corn. But if cream corn was on sale, I would go get it. I would brave the hoard because this is what my life has somehow become. Chasing food sales with a vengeance. I am the Van Helsing of grocery shopping.

And I have to get at least 3 loaves of bread. It's the good bread, not that high quality cardboard that I usually buy for the kids and me. The stuff I buy is usually $1.38. That's right, I know exactly how much a loaf of bread costs. The good stuff runs me almost 2 bucks. However, this weekend, and this weekend only, there is a sale on the good bread for 99 cents a loaf. This is the bread that you must handle gently or it will tear. It's the down pillow of breads, light and fluffy while still providing warmth in the tummy. The stuff I usually buy can be used as home base by the local kids playing baseball. It's tough and rough, which kind of explains my children. I feed them ruffage, gives them a good constitution for the future. I'm trying to introduce them to grits as well, the very sustance of my own childhood. So far, they hate it. But you won't hate it when you spend your whole day stacking bricks and mixing cement. Wait, that was me as a kid. My kids spend thier whole day hitting me on the head and jumping on my crotch.

As I jump the curb and leave the road behind me, I ponder how I came to this point. When saving 39 cents on a loaf of bread was a matter of great importance. Does it really matter enough to run down the poor cows in the field that I am now driving in? Somehow, to me, it does. I buy roughly 8 loaves of bread a month. That makes a lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches, another staple of ours. That means that if I can buy 8 loaves at 99 cents, stack the extra's in the freezer, then I save a total of $3.12 a month. I am running over orphans for 3 bucks. I'm not proud man and yet, I do not change my tactics.

When you are working on a single income, the grocery bill is one of those areas that you can move around a bit. Shop a special here, get something a day old here, and pretty soon you can buy a good loaf of bread every once in awhile.

I jump back on the road while screaming my apologies to the cows and make it to the store. The parking lot is full. When I normally go to the store there is no one there. There are only a very select few of people that shop on Mondays at 9 am. I am no longer accustomed to waiting in lines. I like my purchases to be freash and not picked over. The only screaming kids I want around are my own. And I want my cheap bread.

And if it's is smushed by the weekenders? If it is torn apart and picked over, trampled by greedy weekender hands? What do I do if it is?

So help me god on all that is holy, someone's car is getting keyed.

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