I plan my groceries. I make lists. I budget two hours. Last Tuesday, on a whim, I tried the Titusville Aldi instead.
I barely parked before a smiling employee put a cart in my hands. The first shock was the lack of choice. My usual store has fifteen pasta sauces. Aldi had two. My goblin brain, which hoards on instinct, short-circuited.
Before I could panic, another cheerful employee steered me through a maze of brands I had never heard of. Spätzle for $1.99. A block of cheese. Kettle chips. A jar of truffle oil, because why not.
Then the checkout, where the cashier scanned faster than I could count, and the total came to $48.72 for three weeks of food. I had to pay a quarter for the cart, which as a goblin I respect deeply. I tried to keep the quarter. They were ready for that.
I drove home feeling abducted by friendly aliens disguised as a supermarket. Maybe we don't need fifty toothpastes. Maybe less choice is good.
I'm going back Tuesday. I'm bringing my own quarter, and a spare.
