It was the night before Christmas Eve and consumerism was getting out of hand, as it does during the holidays.
(I wrote a tad about it in my post yesterday)
All the stores were jam-packed with lines out the doors. Yuletide procrastinators were filling their final Christmas wishes.
Like any other of these procrastinators, I made my way to Wegmans last night.I proceeded with caution, as it gave me a fright.
I needed ingredients for the holiday lasagna. And so, mob-scene or not, I was going to get those tomato sauce and pasta sheets.
When I arrived at the grocery store, this is what I saw.
Not a creature was stirring, except a few customers.
Wegmans on the eve of Christmas Eve is no mob-scene, but instead, a calm Silent Night of consumerist procrastination.
Quiet and soothing Christmas tunes hummed through the aisles.
The fluorescent lights illuminated the holiday display that had been erected since Halloween.
We passed our fellow shopping and gave them knowing glares that said, “we all know what we’re doing here.”
When we arrived at the pasta aisle and the Wegmans organic lasagna sheets were sold out. Another woman asked us, “Are you looking for lasagna?”
“Yes,” we solemnly said.
We stared longingly at the cold and empty metal shelf. We were too late.
“Why don’t we try the barilla instead,” I said with a quiver in my voice.
“This is Christmas, Oshitbritt, and we shall only have the best. If the Wegman’s brand is sold out, we shall go to the next,” said my older brother.
And so, we traveled, by foot, from Wegmans to Wegmans, following a shining star.
We would be damned to eat Christmas Eve dinner without our Wegmans lasagna sheets.
We walked until the sun came up and somewhere in the depths of Pennsylvania, we found a Christmas miracle. One box left of the finest lasagna sheets in all the land.
But, then another shopper swooped in and tried to take it from us!
So, we threw a javelin at her and took it as our own.
Merry Christmas Eve, everyone! If you made lasagna, think about what you forced us to do.