Ah, the world is a mess.

• I don’t know whether to watch the news or not.
• Conversations with friends include questions about whether they, or anybody in their immediate circle, have been “tested” recently.
• I look forward to taking a walk with my dog more than she does (It usually represents my “outing” for the day.)
• I alternately think about my untethered self (i.e., no regular job) as a cause for anxiety or as an opportunity for a much-needed re-set.

Oddly, although not much of a shopper for most of my life, I’ve come to enjoy grocery shopping very much these past six months.

I realize that I am fortunate. At this point, I don’t have to rely on a food bank to fill my growling belly. Still, this is quite a new perspective and an overwhelming opportunity to be grateful.

I don’t buy clothes. In a world that has been changed by social restrictions, there’s no place I’d go to where I would care to wear a new outfit. But I do enjoy my weekly trips to the grocery store.

Not accustomed to making lists, as I’m trying to minimize my excursions, I’ve taken to making lists before I pull into a store’s parking lot. Thinking about what I want to get at the store, out of necessity or craving, has begun to occupy more of my time.

I will find myself shopping before I go shopping, and that’s been kind of fun to be aware of. I’ll look at my list and play games with myself.  Wanting to choose only one store instead of making multiple stops on my route, I’ll actually think about where I’d be most likely to get everything on my list.

I’ve thought about the Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman characters in the movie, Shawshank Redemption. I’ve wondered if prisoners, or people restricted in their comings and goings, fantasize about what they’ll buy when they’re sprung.

I imagine that the thought of buying shoes that fit or a six-pack of beer, or a can of tuna for that matter, somehow helps people get through the hours of being alone with very few options.

These days, when I walk between supermarket aisles, I will turn up my power of observation. I will practice comparison shopping, which I haven’t always practiced. I’ll evaluate cost per ounce and consider possible spoilage. If I can’t use the more economical size container before the expiration date, a “deal” may not be such a deal.

I’ve always loved simple, civil exchanges with checkout clerks. With far fewer direct exchanges with people outside of my family, this pleasure has been even more enjoyable. Usually, a twenty-something in colored polo and black chinos will ask how my day is going, or if I found everything I was looking for.

I’ll start laughing because I realize my responses are muffled by my mask.  Although not visible, I think it’s obvious that I’m smiling. I always experience humanity in a positive way during these twenty-second exchanges.

I think it’s wonderful that grocery shopping acts as a laboratory for testing my intuition. The other day, I decided to go to Whole Foods for my weekly shopping. I had a hankering for grilled salmon and trust that their fish is fresher than what I might buy at other stores.

They also carry a wide selection of organic teas, and, anticipating a drop in temperature, I wanted to stock up….Ah, my intuition proved to be on target. The exact thing I wanted was on sale. I probably shouldn’t get such a kick out of this, but I do. I smile when getting something I want, even if it’s only a hot beverage, is easy to acquire.

I love exercising my prerogatives, of having choice in a world when I often don’t feel my preferences matter. I’m happy when I feel in flow with what the universe is ready to give me.

Taking pleasure from routine grocery shopping is no small thing.