Aisle 8

Aisle 8 is my Kryptonite. It is my weakness. It is my budget-busting downfall. It is my Siren or Circe and I am it's Odysseus. What is Aisle 8 you ponder? Simply put, dreaded Aisle 8 is the laundry/cleaning supply aisle in my Dillion's grocery store.

I should set the record straight by saying that I'm very strategic when I go grocery shopping. I try to exert self-control. I know enough to make a list but I don't just make any old list. I plan out each and every meal for two weeks ahead of time. I imagine snacks, and lunch, an occasional breakfast, and Alex's sweet-tooth. I day-dream my way through coupons to see if any of them will fit conveniently onto my list. Then I begin to organize the items depending upon the department I will pass through from beginning to end. Before I know it an hour has passed. Oh, it gets worse. When I finally get into the store, I write down on my list how much each and everything costs. I have budgets inside of budgets. I bargain shop to the point that Alex will no longer come grocery shopping with me and I'm perfectly fine with it. I even organize my grocery cart to get maximum storage without squishing the fruit on the bottom and yet allowing enough leeway to unload it in such a manner that all the meat, and boxes, and cans are all placed on the conveyor belt in the appropriate categories. I tell myself it helps the bagger. I tell myself a lot of things. I travel only down the aisles that I know hold the items on my list. That is until Aisle 8.

Aisle 8. Aisle 8.

It haunts me. I pass by it casually. Maybe it won't see me. Then, as it never fails, something will catch my eye and before I know it I've turned my cart around and I'm walking nonchalantly by it again. I begin to talk to myself (hopefully just in my head) or more likely talk myself out of why I need an Arm-pit stain remover. I walk past it again, only to take a quick glance over my shoulder to see how much the price of Tide is this week and the before I know it I've turned around again. I give in and turn down the walkway.

I'm not sure why I'm so drawn to this particular section. I'm lured in by new fabric softener fragrance and matching dryer sheets. I am seduced by cleaning products promising lemony-fresh disinfected surfaces and new-and-improved garbage disposal cleaning agents. I am fascinated by the question, "Why would I buy a 6-pack of Scotch-Brite scrub sponges for $6.49 when I can get two 3-packs of Scotch-Brite scrub sponges for $5.00?" I yearn for the days when I stumble across the Fabreeze scented candles that have been knocked down $2 in price. I nearly jump for joy when I find a particular soap on clearance and figure out that YES!, I can by 5 bottles of whatnot for less than the price of just one whatnot. Before I know it, I have spent nearly $80 on enough cleaning products that I could scrub the entire city clean after a nuclear holocaust.

I can't help myself. I need help. Really. It's gotten so bad that I will find someone who is working there and beg them to go down the aisle for me to get the occasional item that manages it's way upon my list. Oh, I beg. I have even managed to squeak out my horrible lack of will-power to the poor 16 year old bagger that just happened to innocently ask me if I "needed any help?" I think the pacing back and forth between Aisle 9 and 7 probably put him on alert. He did his job with a smile and I'm sure that I was the topic of much laughter later that night in the break-room.

Well, now I've done it. I've confessed it all. Anyone else out there have a secret, strange obsession? Please tell me I'm not alone. :)