I could have sworn a run to the grocery store on Sunday would have been just the thing. With the city in lockdown watching the Chiefs at noon, I figured I would have the store to myself. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Evidently there are a bunch of us out there who are not huge football fans, and it was a veritable bun fight trying to get around the store without being held up by heel-dragging, lost-looking husbands, matrons who believe parking their cart in the middle of the aisle and somewhat catawampus is the thing to do, or children of various ages and stages romping around mama’s cart so that there was a very real threat of their being run over by sensible cart drivers – i.e. me.

Patience is not one of my virtues.

Price Chopper on Woods Chapel Road has taken over the long-vacant store next door and has expanded dramatically. Thank the Lord there is now a pretty good cheese section, the deli has grown, the wine department is impressive and with a few exceptions things are still in the same aisles they always were.

Not according to my husband, of course. Sir’s idea of an extremely bad time is to be sent to the store. He develops selective blindness and has the tendency to wander aimlessly around for a good 15 minutes before he gives up and comes home with three AAA batteries and a pint of milk. All well and good, but he was actually in the market for toothpaste and bread.

His ADD kicks in you see - I can see him roaming about thinking “toothpaste and bread,” but diverting himself to “oh, Twinkies, ice cream, chocolate, shaving cream – hey Macarena!”

If he had his way the supermarket would be laid out very simply. Starting from the left Aisle One would contain the As and the Bs, Aisle Two would have the Cs and Ds – well you catch my drift.

And if he could only sell someone on the idea, it would be called The Man Mart. There would be a choice of one brand per item. Apparently thirty four types of toothpaste throw him into a bit of a tizzy, bread confuses him, and heaven help him if I ever sent him in for coffee. Eggs addle him, so much so that he even questions the reality of a brown egg versus a white one, and as to the various sizes, he is left speechless.

So the T aisle would contain toothpaste, identically packaged with only one type cramming the shelves. The B aisle, if he had his druthers, would contain common or garden variety white bread.

Eggs would – and in his mind – should come in only one size and one color, and of course the V aisle would be empty. Vegetables? Who needs them?

It’s a good thing I didn’t send him up there on Sunday. We would’ve ended up with light bulbs and a nice Chardonnay for dinner.

Annie Dear lives in Lee's Summit. Email her at anniedearkc@hotmail.com