I was in a tizzy when we got to the cash register. "Bi-Lo card, ma'am?"
"Oh yeah, it's right here..." Pwahhh! The flip are my keys?
I'm getting all flumoxed, fumble with my wallet, don't know how to sign my own name. I'm really starting to sweat as we head to customer service where I am hoping against hope that the woman who was chatting me up in the produce aisle about how do I cook with minced garlic since her husband who just got diagnosed with diabetes needs a whole new diet plan WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO USE MINCED GARLIC?!? was not actually creating a diversion while someone in cahoots with her was pickpocketing my keys right there next to the organic bell peppers!
Baby Girl can sense I am distressed and because she is Antoine de Saint-Exupery, she says, "Mama? Just pray about it."
So we stopped there in Bi-Lo in front of the customer service desk and said ourselves a prayer.
"Kendra?" smiled the customer service representation as she dangled my car keys in front of her.
Bi-Lo, you might be surprised to learn, does not sell pizza dough, Boboli ready-made crust, nor bean sprouts. They do, however, sell Kim-Chee.
The pharmacy at Bi-Lo, for your information, does not open until 1 p.m. on Sunday. Everyone and their pharmacists are praying for the souls of us who are pacing in a giant rageball around the pharma counter by noon on a Sunday because we ran out of meds yesterday.
I am adjusting to grocery shopping at Bi-Lo in the South.
I don't really like Bi-Lo.
I am sure the feeling is mutual.
I love this guy, though. See that big brain? It's going to MIT someday.
My cross-dressing chippendale.