The human grocery store is my battlefield. Today, at a Titusville supermarket, my mission was simple: select the perfect Oreo.
Aisle 4 had other plans. Regular. Double Stuf. Golden. Golden Double Stuf. Mega Stuf. Then flavors I'm fairly sure were invented to test me.
I took a cart and began.
The classic: comforting, familiar, a hug from an old friend. But is it the best? I moved on. Double Stuf: twice the crème, twice the trouble. Golden: a blank vanilla canvas with the potential for greatness, or for nothing. Golden Double Stuf: the lovechild of two controversial choices, a dark horse. Mega Stuf: a heart attack in a plastic tray. I began to sweat.
Hours passed. I took notes on texture and structural integrity. I ran taste tests on strangers, paying them in promises. A manager asked if I needed help. I said yes, but not his kind.
At last I emerged clutching one package. The classic. The original reigns supreme.
The lesson: sometimes the simplest choice is best. The second lesson: I am no longer allowed in that store before noon.
