Enter through the liquor store and note disturbing lack of carts. Successfully procure the extra large variety, and partially fill it with a hopefully appropriate selection of alcohol.
Thus fortified, head west and cautiously begin negotiating a produce section teaming with Klingons.
Seek refuge in the paper product aisle (while conveniently securing a 12-mega roll pack of toilet paper). Send the following text to Molly:
“It’s every man for himself here. Electronic list is working great. But, I accidentally deleted a few letters from the wrong line. What words starts with C-O…comes after cloves on the list.”
Corn? Coriander? Coconut? Cornmeal?
Head over to dry goods while cellphone chatting with Charlie. Accidentally knock over an item — Suuuuuugar! Literally. Mortifying.
Cleanup in aisle 15.
Cocoa? Corn syrup? Coffee?
Am momentarily trapped by an idle cart and an indecisive spice purchaser. Witness an amazing example of Hodgkin’s Law of Parallel Planetary Development as a variety of frazzled humans congregate near the chicken broth cans. Full fat, full sodium appears to be the soup of the day.
Cold syrup? Coke? Cottage Cheese?
Develop ridiculous blister on my cart-pushing hand as my cellphone-holding hand continues to be otherwise engaged.
Cod liver oil? Cockles? Corkscrew?
Proceed through checkout lane and decline a kind offer for curbside pickup. Begin Jenga-like arrangement of 11 paper grocery bags, five pounds of potatoes, and one gallon of milk in my sweet, long-suffering little car.
Begin the Voyage Home.
Cookies? Conch? Coal?