So I’m walking down the aisle in the grocery store over the weekend, heading over to the dairy section to pick up some half & half for my better half. Oooh…that was a good one, wasn’t it? “Half & half for my better half.” Now that is damn smooth word-smithing, if I may say so myself. Anyway, I’m sauntering along, because I absolutely love grocery shopping (really – don’t ask) and I pass by the peanut butter jars and jelly jars. They’re all lined up in perfection on the shelf – matching labels all facing front as if they’re an army waiting for command to march. It reminds me of old World War II pictures of the German army – thousands of them, all lined up and shoulder to shoulder, back to back.
Anyway, as I walk down the aisle I am stopped in my tracks. Why? Fluff. Any other day, any other week, any other month, any other year, I walk right by. Only a higher power can understand what is was about Fluff that brought me to a standstill this weekend. All I know is that I had to have it in my cart as soon as possible. Being part of a dual income household allows this occasional ridiculousness. Hey, Fluff is only .89 cents, for god’s sake. Once in a while, it’s ok to be dumb. Will I ever make it through the whole jar? Doubtful. I don’t need the whole jar, just a couple of fixes is all. So today during lunch – a peanut butter and fluff sandwhich for the first time in at least 10-12 years.
Just look at that damn bottle. It’s downright comforting with that old-school logo which we’ve known since we were kids. It’s still a slight pain in the ass to get it on bread and equally difficult to wash it off the knife. And no matter what, Fluff always stays level. You can dig a hole right down the middle of that jar – ten minutes later – it’s even again, like a glass of water. Oh, Fluff. How I’ve missed you.