Is today the day I buy a plant at Trader Joe’s?

I want a plant.

Who doesn’t want a plant.

I want a succulent, and I don’t know why.

I still want a plant.

They keep them by the elevator at my Trader Joe’s, the one that leads to the subterranean hell of a parking lot. They keep them there to shame me.

Who’s they?

The Trader Joe’s people.

Every day is Tiki Sunshine Happiness day in Trader Joe’s. Everybody is attractive and has more swagger than a Trump appointee carrying a flamethrower into a national forest.

Watch them when they smile. Dead eyes.

Trader Joes. Amazing. Horrifying. A shapeshifter.

You see, grocery stores aren’t the great equalizer, even though everybody needs food and nobody can afford Postmates.

Grocery stores are wonderful examples of the subtle classism that our society is brined and pickled in.

Whole Foods is for people who have something to prove. I AM HEALTHY they screech as they pay double retail while looking over their shoulder to see if they’re being noticed. I AM UNCONVENTIONAL they squawk each time they snatch a venture capital-funded natural treat.

Gelsons is for people who aspire to be Jewish grandmothers who pay $18 per pound for blue cheese stuffed olives.

Erewhon is for instagram influencers and other forms of moneyed scum.

Ralphs and Vons are too boring for an opinion. Fresh? Wow. 

Costco? With liberty and overconsumption for all.

Food4Less? “I believe anything because I’m bad at math.”

Stater Brothers? “I have never seen a coastline.”

99 c store? "I've got a knife in my boot so don't fuck with me!" 

Where does Trader Joe’s fit into this family? Trader Joe’s is so many things. Trader Joe’s is Disneyland. Trader Joe’s is an office party. Trader Joe’s is the slutty cousin from the suburbs. Trader Joe’s says “Yes, sweetheart,” when they actually mean, “Die, bitch.”

There are plants, you guys. They’re natural I want to be natural. Trader Joe’s is natural. They have one entire ½ sized vegetable section. The 99c store dedicates more square footage than Trader Joe’s.

Frozen (preserved!), pre-packaged (on-the-go!), sugar-drenched (evaporated cane juice!), deep-fried (avocado oil!), relabeled (fair trade!), carb-laden (ancient grain!), nutrient-devoid (home style!).

Oh and more alcohol than Snooki on a Saturday night. Or a Tuesday. Trader Joe’s is an aspirational 7-11. (Oh my God my references are getting dated I really am old ugghhhhhhhhhh)

Yes, technically they have milk, eggs, and an apple, but let’s be serious, nobody’s buying food for a family. Real food? Rare, or more commonly, it’s literally just not there.

Complete the sentence of a Trader Joe’s shopper. You can even choose two, if you want.

I need to stock up on:

(1) Fruits and vegetables

(2) Boneless, skinless chicken breast

(3) Cheap wine

(4) Cookie butter and mini french donuts.

Mmm-hmm. But they have plants so it must be healthy. Want another cookie? 

Should I get that $6.99 miniature aloe vera? I want the aloe vera. I want a plant that has TWO names.

I want something soothing in the raging dumpster fire of my life.

I want the poor man’s version of Gwyneth Paltrow.

I want a goddamn plant.

Did I buy a plant today? Nope. I got pre cut pineapple. And pre cut cantaloupe. And two boxed salads. And dates. And cheese. And frozen Indian food. Because I’m weak.

Will today be the day I put down the convenience, the sloth, the gluttony, and buy a plant? Or will I simply entertain the notion? I want the plant but I don’t want the responsibility, because that would actually mean something.

If I buy the plant, I’m accountable. I can’t just consume and dispose. I still want to buy a plant.

Definitely!

Next time!

A conifer!

A perennial!

A philodendron.

Make me different, plant. Make me better.

Please?

By tomorrow? Kthx.