Blueberry Spill

Life is full of embarrassing moments. The good news is that when you get to be my age, you pretty much don't give a hoot about such embarrassments, and even better, by the next day, you've probably even forgotten all about it.

So this afternoon, I'm checking out at Publix (where Talenti Gelato was on sale 3 for $10.00), and all is going well. I've got my baby portobellos, two bananas, Florida strawberries, and organic romaine up on the belt. Got my 6-pack of Saltwater Brewery's Screamin' Reels IPA, the one with the 6-pack holder made of fish food, just in case it ends up in the ocean. (Have you seen this? So environmentally creative! Saltwater Brewery is right up the road from me!) Coffee filters, window cleaner, toilet paper. All that's still in my cart is in that top compartment, the one that toddlers get to ride in. I place the organic eggs, the Oui yogurt, and the grape tomatoes on the belt, accidentally knocking the clamshell container of blueberries down into the bottom of the cart.

And then it happened. The clamshell container burst open, and within seconds, there were blueberries rolling around everywhere! My efforts to retrieve the container from the nadir of the cart only served to send the remaining blueberries hither and yon. Within seconds, a Publix employee was there to clean up my mess. I tried to move my cart out of the way of his broom, only to succeed in smashing random blueberries into the floor. There was absolutely no way to make up for my embarrassing error. (Although I do maintain that it wasn't really my fault. Faulty grocery cart design? Faulty clamshell closure? Blueberries wanting only to be free?)

It occurred to me to take a picture of the spill, already considering a blog post, but I felt too stupid to do so. It seemed too much like taking a picture of your empty plate after you'd dined on French cuisine at some pricey cafe. And it would make me sad to see a picture of the blueberries that ended up in the garbage instead of my cereal bowl.

As the rest of my groceries were being scanned and bagged, the woman who'd checked out before me had some comforting words. "Hey, at least it wasn't something liquid or glass," she offered. True. I thanked her for her offering and then headed out of the store, declining the Publix employee's offer to take my cart to my vehicle. (They are so very accommodating down here.)

Safe at home, I am over my embarrassment. But this isn't over. Tomorrow morning, when there are no blueberries in my cereal, I will revisit this unfortunate event. There will be no thrill . . . on Blueberry Spill.

And by the following day, I won't remember a thing.