Grocery Shopping for the Parrot Lifestyle
The tea aisle isn't alphabetical. Grocery products are like airline seats. Companies pay for leg room and eyeballs. Which is helpful to the grocery store's bottom line but doesn't help my shopping. I forget just about every piece of life factoid that floats through my day. Can't be helped anymore. The little things slide through my synapsis net like sugar through a tennis racket.
I shop this store consistently. The best I can do is remember what aisle the not alphabetized tea is in. Which I don't. I walk the exterior aisle looking down the walkways. I seek familiar colors and shapes. I should look up to the signs hanging from the ceiling in 1000 point sized font. Black typography against its familiar happy green panel could be Franklin Gothic, but it could be Calibri. Font name aside, I need tea. And I am not going to rely on these signs. I need to exercise my synapsis. I read that on the internet. I am to create new connections and strengthen them through use and challenge. (That bit was in Header 2 font) Like trailblazing. I should think. I've never blazed a trail.
Grocery lists are a moving target. If you have parrots. I'm doomed to make three emergency trips with one addendum trip on an afternoon I realize I didn't get two items I need to make these four items currently in front of me on the counter work correctly.
I have two lists that should be one list, but one of the lists is for the parrots. Parrots aren't a pet choice. The only animals that could be considered such an idea are those that have no choices and offer no personality push back. Pet rocks come to mind. Parrots are a lifestyle choice. They have opinions, and then they change them without fanfare or announcement. They wait until you try to please them, and at that most excellent moment let you know they hate that. You have failed them. And they will be waiting here for you to change your attitude. It's a lot of pressure.
I'm in the tea aisle looking for a very specific box with a very specific tea. To fail this will make 6 o'clock in the evening difficult. Felix has warm teatime, and Felix has a very specific tea. And a very specific teacup.
Felix is 29 years old this year. He is a Congo African Grey. He is an opinionated curmudgeon. We ransom rescued him at the age of 19 from a pet store I will not name. We were told his name was Franklin. He told us his name was Felix. For three months. Until my brain synapsis created a new connection. That bird was on his last nerve ending by the time I addressed him properly.
The herbal tea market is huge. Six feet by 12 feet in the grocery store alone. Go online and you won't find the end to the herbal tea aisle. You won't find the beginning, either. It's market value this year is 3.2 billion dollars. Today I'm prepared to invest 5 dollars, if it's a BOGO deal. I'll Bogo without a deal and drop 10 dollars without thinking about it. Felix Teatime is sacrosanct. I do not mess with others religious beliefs.
If they would just alphabetize this square footage of shelving, I'd be done at the Bs. Because I'm looking for Bigalow. I sigh. I look to my right to another shopper struggling. She's got three boxes of tea claiming to improve her digestion. I'd get all three. Do not mess around with digestion.
Bigalow arrives in my sight right after Tazo. And now to find their peach flavor which is an empty space on the shelf with a little green apology card stating the store feels awful about not having this product and promises to make it up to me indirectly. I feel a tightness in my chest. Felix will have his revenge. I move to another peach flavor tea. There's a bear in a nightcap on the box. I suppose that's supposed to make me feel happy about the tea. I'd rather wrestle an angry bear then deal with Felix's disgust with a pinch-hitting peach tea. Nothing good can come from this. I move back to Bigalow. Best to stay inside a brand. I grab Orange & Spice. Toss it in the cart knowing that'll fly like roadkill. I grab a new idea by Bigalow. Iced tea specific peach lemonade acai with hints of it doesn't matter. One last at bat. I go back to the friendly night capped bear and grab his peach tea.
I'll attempt tea service in alphabetical order. I'm doomed.
Hi Kathy, I too have a 27 year old African Grey but not a Congo.Rehomed at age 17 years by some older folks who literally raised him from a hatchling . He is a funny boy, mostly loving but can have his grumpy moments in the am if we remove his cage cover before he asks to get up with a few tiny ‘’ Chawoos’’ gradually getting louder and more insistent. Try CS peach it is lovely and no caffiene 🐻