Doggone It’s Grocery Day…

Monday’s are my very most favorite day of the week because it is grocery day.It seems time slows down toward the end of the week in anticipation. The cornucopia is now open for business – overflowing with all manner of good things.  By Sunday, my cupboards are always looking bare. I am looking forward to preparing my mother’s delicious spaghetti and meat sauce later this week. Annabel would really, really enjoy that. We both can't stand beans in our chili as well.  We seemingly have kindred taste buds.

I don’t have much to do today at the Literacy Center so I am just going to hang out, goof off, and blog and browse the Net until lunchtime just in case someone needs me.

Mom has already called me three or more times fretting over my groceries. Mole hills into mountain tops should be mom’s motto. She’s worried about spending too much as I need a lot of groceries this week. She is so afraid my father is going to jump all over for doing that.

“Your daddy said I could only spend $75 dollars on you this week. “ said my mother. 

Traditionally, I have always gotten $85, and only rarely above $100 dollars once or twice. 

“You two do realize that disability money is mine?” I asked my mother with an aggravated air to my voice marking the beginnings of a possible revolt by the peasants.. “It is just entrusted to you and dad to be spent for my wellbeing and my needs. You both lose sight of that alarmingly often.”

Mom and dad long ago took to thinking that money was theirs.  

“Then spend some of that money on me!” I replied exasperated to my mother as she waffled over the affair.. “I don’t think Social Security or dad are going to begrudge you doing that.”