It dawned on me this morning that now I’ve got a car again (should have thought of this last week, when I acquired said motor vehicle; but I am pregnant, ergo, a little bit slow), I don’t have to do my grocery shopping on the weekends, when Walmart is a circus. If my grocery budget would allow it, I’d shop anywhere but Walmart, because even on weekday mornings, when it’s not busy, Walmart can be extremely annoying because there are certain items I buy that they don’t sell (or, more annoying, used to sell, but don’t any longer — most recently, Wolf hot dog chili).

So, before Walmart, I ran in Kroger for the express purpose of buying Ragu 7 Herb Tomato pasta sauce. Two jars of it.

I came out with six jars.

Plus six more in other varieties.

And nine boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch…

…five boxes of Lucky Charms…

…four boxes of Barilla pasta…

…three 8-roll packs of Bounty paper towels…

…and two packages of Oscar Mayer hot dogs.

It’s like The Very Hungry Caterpillar Goes Grocery Shopping.

I couldn’t help myself! They were all items I buy regularly, and they were on sale cheaper than Walmart ever has them, and in stock, and–

Well, you know you may have gone a little beyond taking advantage of a good sale when the cashier remarks, “Not planning on going out for a while?”

I gave a sheepish laugh and indicated my baby belly. I should have told her I was preparing for the Zombie Apocalypse and asked if she was ready (because nothing says preparedness for zombie attack like weenies, cereal, pasta sauce, and paper towels). But I never think of these things in the moment. Even when I’m not pregnant.

You’d think that such a life-altering experience as pregnancy would be a subject a writer would eat up, wouldn’t you?  Yet this writer has made it six months into her first pregnancy without really blogging about it.

Several things can account for this, I think.  During the first part of my pregnancy (17 weeks, to be precise), I was too sick and tired to blog.  These days I’m feeling better physically, but I most often don’t feel I have the mental capacity or creativity to write; I’m preoccupied (gee, I can’t imagine with what), and I believe that my body is so busy making a tiny person that there’s not much left for making stories of words.

It doesn’t account for the slowdown in my novel work, but I think the biggest detriment to my blogging is Facebook.  When you can share any interesting news or amusing tidbits in one line, or upload a photo album to share with all your friends, why go to all the trouble of writing blog posts?  (Which is an entire blog topic in itself…)  But the writer in me resists this laziness – the less I write, the less I’ll be able to write.  And the sentimental part of me knows I’ll regret not having written anything but Facebook status updates about my pregnancy.

Though maybe there’s something to not chronicling pregnancy:  if I don’t write about my experiences, I won’t remember them as clearly, and will be more likely to consider a second pregnancy… Because I’m convinced there must be some sort of amnesia that sets in after birth, or women would never volunteer to do this more than once!  (I don’t know what to make of all these women who claim to love being pregnant…)

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Even before the economy got bad, I loved to save money and get a good deal.  It’s fun to get a lot for a little.  It’s even more fun to get something completely for free.  Like airline tickets.  (Though you don’t want me to get started on Mr. Burt’s current credit card enterprises.)

But even getting something small for free is hugely thrilling. For instance, the other day I bought seven boxes of cereal because A) they were on sale for a really good price and B) you got a free package of Pop Tarts and three free gallons of milk.  It’s a sensible combination for a deal, isn’t it?  Cereal, milk, Pop Tarts — all breakfast foods.  However, I’m at a loss to see the sense in this manufacturer’s coupon offer from the past Sunday’s paper:

Possibly I could see the connection if this were any other soda being offered for free with the purchase of eggs — a lot of people do drink soda with breakfast, and eggs aren’t just a breakfast food.  But Big Red?  Who over the age of eight drinks Big Red?  (Also, I must register my astonishment that there’s actually a Diet Big Red.  Are people who don’t find liquid bubblegum sickeningly sweet really that bothered about sugar?)  In any case, this is one coupon I did not clip with the intent of squirreling away a little extra money while our economy goes down the toilet.

Speaking of the economy, some brave soul has decided to start a new business in our area.  About a week ago, I went out my front door to find a nylon bag hanging on the knob, accompanied by a flier advertising a pick-up dry cleaning company.  As in, on Tuesday morning, you put your clothes in the bag, leave it on your porch, and they pick it up and return my clothes to my porch on Friday, starched and hung neatly on hangers.  If you never intend to use the service, you put the empty bag out on Friday for pickup.

Is it just me, or does this strike you as a highly naïve operation?  First of all, does someone really expect me to be trusting enough to leave my good dry clean only clothes on my porch?  If you’ve ever been to my neighborhood, you’d know that stuff left outside your home is fair game for scavengers.  It won’t last five minutes.  And this is suburbia!

I myself am proof of the kind of property rights mindset people have around here:  on the first Friday pickup day, I did not return my blue nylon bag.  Truthfully, I forgot to put it on the porch, but that was probably more a case of out of sight, out of mind.  As in, the bag was out of sight, in my laundry closet, because I thought it would make a great laundry bag for wet clothes when traveling.  If you put a bag on my doorstep and invite me to take it into my home, it’s not coming out again.  It’s mine, my own, it came to me!  We’re in a recession, I must hold on to anything useful that should fall into my possession.

On one last money-saving note, this week I’ve been stricken with a nasty sinus infection and cough.  While debating whether to drag my sorry tail up to the pharmacy for cough syrup, I googled Robitussin to see if it actually would help.  According to Wikipedia, “some cough medicines may be no more effective than placebos for acute coughs in adults, including coughs related to upper respiratory tract infections” and “Recent studies have found that theobromine, a compound found in cacao, is more effective as a cough suppressant than prescription codeine. This compound suppresses the “itch” signal from the nerve in the back of the throat that causes the cough reflex. It is possible to get an effective dose (1 g, though 0.5 g may be sufficient) from 50g of dark chocolate, which contains 2 to 10 times more cacao than milk chocolate. Cocoa powder contains roughly 0.1 g per tablespoon.  Theobromine was also free from side effects in the blind tests.”

So, I have not spent money on Robitussin, and have instead been drinking many mugs of Swiss Miss Dark Chocolate Sensation.  Which may not have saved me money…But even in an economy like this, a spoon full of sugar — or in this case, a mug full of dark chocolate — makes the medicine go down in a most delightful way.