it's been awhile, and the fault is all mine.
when we moved to GA, we decided to rent a house that was close to work and take a leisurely pace to investigate the area. although close to work, it was quite a drive to Publix, and Chick-fil-a... a gas station, airport... and anywhere, really. however, it was a beautiful, care-free plan of Sunday drives through nearby towns, villages, and neighborhoods.
our southern-drawl domicile life hit the yankee-brash brakes when our landlord decided to sell the house. suddenly my life became thumbnails of Zillow ❤️s, open house visits, and the subsequent unclicking of Zillow ❤️s. 💔
then, out-of-the-blue, we found her -- our new home. *audible grinning sigh* this home is one of those "it just keeps getting better" gifts that occasionally occur in life.
one of those gifts? a Publix nexus (⬅️ Publix Green color).
our new home is nearly dead-center of said nexus--we are surrounded by 5(!) Publix locations. if I wanted to be even more nexus outrageous, I can drive just a few miles more and include 3 more locations.
dizzyi-ing giddiness, right?!
weeellllll... let's just simmer down, sweetie. remember what every Grimm Fairytale taught us, there's always a price to pay for magical nexus occurrences.
this particular nexus fee comes with an unusual price--mental instability.
*duhn, duhn, duhnnnn!* (⬅️ Publix Instability Green color)
the truly unstable fun part of having so many Publix stores to choose from, is the reality of the mental load and hyper-vigilance required to be absolutely mind-locked-in as to which store's airlock you've just whooshed through!
side note: my previous 2 posts (only 2?! lame), were observations of the only Publix that was near, now-- now I have a more clear understanding of the insidious mind-gamery that is Publix.
every store's entrance/exits are exactly the same. same airlock sound, same wet/dry floor mats, same grocery carts, same wipes dispenser, same last-chance garbage can, but once you step out of that pinnacle of modern airlock science (😒)-- all bets are off.
once you're in, you have to merge right--always. actually, that's how they devilishly lure my brain into a sense of security, a state of mindless bliss.
"yeah, yeah, airlock: ✓. customer service desk, and checkout lanes to left: ✓. nooowww, glance to the right, I dare you. 😈"
you know me (we've known each other since, what...2005?) I've got my list, I've got my PR/beat-the-clock timing strategy, but having to smash my brain's pause button, ev-er-y single time I walk into a Publix is just a particular form of torture/hell/diabolicalness foisted upon the hapless (⬅️ first time using that word!) consumer; aka, me.
none of the Publix stores have the same interior layout. (⬅️ Publix Instability-induced Green color)
will I turn right and maze-walk through pollen-laced foliage, or will I dodge the deadly-to-me wafting to-and-fro latex balloons, or will it be the half-dozen tables of stale cookies, babkas, and expired motivated-priced assorted boxed items?
continuing on, will the next area be the "bakery", or is that located in the store's opposite corner in the back? I could stumble into the deli or, heck(!), even immediately shuffle into organic produce mingling with bastardized produce.
will the sushi experts be in the same "kitchen" corral as Publix sandwich experts, or will they be relegated to a tiny refrigerator section next to the fresh meat department? will the bags of rotisserie chickens (mojo flavor is my jam) be warm-ish by the overly fried chicken pieces laying under a death-ray heat lamp, or will they have their own real estate by the check-out lanes?
even the aisles are inconsistent, just when I get used to bread stacked across from the dairy wall, the next location has bread taking a siesta across from theTAKIS! items shelved within the aisles are inconsistent--you expect bagged tortillas to be in the same international aisle as salsa? suck it. walk two aisles over to the end cap, loser.
*frustrated sigh*
sure, shake you head and obvi-ask, "why don't you just go to the same store?!" darlin' (⬅️ Southern euphemism for "dimwit") when you live the rural GA life, that means you are driving everywhere across this gorgeous state, even for just a few separate errands.
that sudden recollection (while standing in Home Depot looking for outdoor faucet covers, 12 miles from home) that you need the stem of a bell pepper for the pumpkin-shaped cheese ball you're bringing to the couples' 99 game night, you are nefariously forced into the spin of a Publix Russian Roulette pistol.
since leaving MI, and Meijer, the superstore, I now realize why Southern living is synonymous with a slower way of life. it's not the heat, humidity, conversation and hospitality rules/expectations.
no. well not entirely... in part, it's because everyone has been programmed that when you walk into a nearby Publix, you must physically pause, and then slowly embrace the instability that is Publix.
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