A few weeks ago I caught sight of my overworked, frazzled, absent-minded self in the big mirror in my local grocery store and did a double take; as unbelievable as it was, I had managed to go to the store wearing my pajamas. I honestly thought I’d remembered to change into jeans and a T-shirt.

One embarrassing trip wouldn’t be so bad, but it happens more often than not — mostly when I’ve run out of something, usually coffee or milk, which I need in order to function.

 The truth is that I hate grocery shopping, and not just because I have to remember to put on real clothes. I hate all the options and how easy it is to get distracted at the supermarket. You know how it goes: Oooo, look, gummy bears! Why did I come down this aisle again? Wait, they make purple pasta sauce?
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