Meijer and the fear of public vomiting

. . .

⬆︎ those are my pondering dots. 

you've read this post's title, so now the dilemma is-- how do I unpack that day of personal infamy? maybe I'll begin with a date stamp...

December 23rd, 2020

for the record, I had already made 3 Meijer visits over the previous 2 days, but still had to make another $186 trip to the superstore. #sonofanutcracker!

I finish loading my cart, thrilled to make my way through the holiday-busy, 6' socially distance store, when I realize that all the people/carts I'm trying to navigate around aren't just annoyingly browsing in the aisle's walking spaces--they are parked; as in, waiting in line for one of the four cashiers!

I make a u-turn from the ridiculously few "real" cashiers, and begin the daunting task of weaving through men's unmentionables, plus-size leggings, and holiday sweaters, towards the 12 items or less u-scan--all the while simultaneously reviewing my cart's contents; hoping beyond hope I can shed dead weight and turn my 12 x 12 items into... fewer than that. 

before I toss items willy-nilly from the cart, a hard reality check smashes into my dead weight fantasy. the u-scan line snakes through plus-size, active-wear and ends in SHOES!

another course correction. I've resigned myself to an actual cashier, I face the next insane line of people, it's worse than I originally thought. 

I give myself a quick mental pep-chat: I'm no Meijer noob, I'm a pro with 15+ years of experience. Meijer can't out think, or out creative me! (poor mind grammar, but sometimes that's how pep-chats go). 

I make a recon run, analyzing, running the numbers, Meijer sheep customer patterns... and that's when I found it-- the hidden short(ish) line in the over-priced candle and tissue paper aisle. I swoop in, ignoring the stares and jaw-droppers when they realize the massive coup d'etat I just pulled off. 💪🏼

the older hippie-guy in front of me turns to lean against the shelving, gives me a once-over with a "in-the-secret-aisle-know-nod" and proceeds to work on his phone's candy crush game... with the l o n g e s t (natural) yellow/grey fingernails I have ever seen on a man-human... at Meijer (I've lived in Taiwan).

not gonna lie, warning sirens nagged my mind. I ignored them, sure that getting out of Meijer was the ultimate goal. still... another quick scan of Mr. Nine Inch Nails (NIИ), revealed beard with food crumbs, unzipped jeans (👀!), Birkenstocks, and the same yellow/grey fingernail theme, but on TOES!

with sweaty palms, I wipe my clammy forehead, head spinning, my oversized Carhartt hoodie feels like an electric blanket powered by lava. 

an unhelpful image flashes through my mind: me sitting in a poorly-lit cement-floored basement, a loose circle with fellow therapy patients, as I recite: "hello, my name is tracinell, and I have an irrational fear of vomiting in public."

I shake my head, willing the premonition away, but that shake ripple-effects into a tsunami wave of nausea through my overheated system. I'd kill for a sip of water, or a cool breeze. 

refusing to be forced into therapy by Mr. NIИ--I resolve to leave the now claustrophobic-secret-aisle, and head for the 45 minute wait line, but with safety in numbers. just as my damp palms grab the cart handle, my sense of surgical-masked smell is sucker-punched by a horrific stench of body odor. I'm trapped! a mani/pedi phobia in front of me (with beard brunch and unzipped jeans), and an obese maker of stinky-human-cheese-in-the-folds-of-his-skin behind me!

my personal vomiting nightmare ramps up several notches to living HELL level; I white-knuckle death-grip the cart handle, clamping down the impending stomach heaves. I lean over, head between my arms, hoping there's a breeze below the waistline that hasn't been putrified yet, but not so low that gravity will just pull the vomit from my churning stomach.

full-on praying now, I glance to the left and stare at the wall of tissue paper. a glimmer of hope that if public vomiting is my destiny, at least there is something to soak-up the shame with. 

a warm breeze of putrid stinky body cheese wafts between the folds of my medically-enchanced-paper mask. my head swivels to the right, I blurry-vision, but somehow make out rows, and shelves, of hyper-fragranced candles.

in a flash, I am tearing off candle lids, mask-filter inhaling pumpkin nutmeg pie, candle fireside, lilac blossoms, sparkling cinnamon, frasier fir, banana walnut bread, creamy vanilla swirl... my face half an inch from candle wicks as I inhale-gulp.

the line moves; a classic good news/bad news scenario. I'm leaving the tunnel-like aisle, but still have the same human-ickiness in front and behind me. I avert my eyes from the troll toenails hanging over the birkenstocks, and grab the biggest "to-go" candle I can find; I position it directly under my masked-nose.

after a few deep vomit-taming breaths, I glance up to see frightened Mr. NIИ staring at me. he nudges his cart forward to a 6' 3" distance. with the candle pressed against my sickly-green face, I tempt fate and look behind me. Stinky Cheese Man pulls his cart back to a 6' 6" distance from me.

beyond grateful for my portable, waxed Christmas-Eve's-Eve miracle, I glance at the name of the candle, "Life's a Breeze." 

Meijer and the holiday something

 

UPDATE: November 17, 2020...

the second set of motion-sensor doors open, my lungs fill with a hopeful inhale of holiday decoration anticipation(!) ... only to exhale out a disappointed blurt, 

"seriously?!"

I check the date of the not-quite season post, I could've sworn I learned the holiday decor heartbreak-lesson and waited even longer before going to Meijer in November... 

"November 8th." I mutter from behind my mask.

"No ma'am, it's the 17th today," Masked Greeter Man clarifies, spritzes a paper towel with disinfectant, then offers it in lieu of the more valuable than gold antibacterial wipe for my germ-infected cart.

distracted, I go through the motions of cleaning my COVID super-spreader cart, and scan the ceiling of the superstore, expecting, no, wanting Meijer's tacky/ginormous cardboard Christmas tree ornaments to twist awkwardly in the superstore's climate controlled breeze. 

nothing.

I purposely head to the plus-size headless mannequins, hoping for an ugly Christmas sweater, or even plus-size sexy-Mrs. Claus lingerie (Santa baby indeed! *sexy growl*)

nothing.

my pace quickens. I hold out hope that the east-side will burst with--well, if not Christmas, at least Thanksgiving decor! 

my eyes dart left, center, right, searching for punkin' pie, or a theme of red, yellow, brown leaves, on placemats, or printed on the fancy-thick paper napkins, or even that cartoon turkey mascot reminding me "don't forget the stuffing!" (side note: it's macabre when cartoon turkeys encourage their doom; but hey, turkeys aren't exactly smart, sooo...) 

nothing.

memories of November 8, 2017's post, and my current lack of holiday cheer surroundings on November 17, 2020, swirl. I attempt to align my chakras (actually, I just took in a deep breath--that counts, right?) as I wade through my incongruent reality...

"so, no holiday decorations, even though I waited an entire week+ longer, and *insert math computation whirring sound* it's only 9 days until Thanksgiving?!"

more counting, lightheadedness threatens...

"which means only 38 days 'til Christmas!!"

I bah-humbugg-ed the rest of my shopping excursion--well, because I was raised in the South, that means I still said "hello" as I passed fellow humans, but I didn't bother to physically smile behind my mask. #shameful

now in a checkout line, I center my cart over the 6' apart sticker. totally bummed, I look up from my phone, hoping that maybe the cashier is wearing a rack of reindeer antlers, or an elf hat-- heck, at this point, my cheer-o-meter would skyrocket if she was snacking on a giant turkey leg in one hand, and a slice of apple pie in the other!

nothing.

my head lowers... I shuffle forward, pausing to let people move passed me when, suddenly(!), to my left, my peripheral vision catches red, yellow, then green. my observation skillz snap to attention... could it be--

SOMETHING?!

A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!!! 🙏🏽

albeit in the form of printed cardboard, but I'll take it! thanks, Frito-Lay, for coming to my Christmas cheer rescue. (☜ tbh, a sentence I never in a million years expected to write.)

Meijer and the pandemic hunger game

decades from now, when the words "pandemic," "COVID," and "corona" are all but forgotten, I want a visual to show my grandchildren of this tumultuous-uncertain-trying-frightening-unprecedented-unnerving-isolated time... 

 

⬆︎ this about sums up the past 6 months of my grocery life;  paper towels, produce, TP, canned goods, cleaning/laundry products.

💡! 

heeeeeyyyy... wanna play "The Pandemic Price is Right Hunger Game" and guess how much the Two-Tier Small Cart cost?

Click on the jingle while you take a zoom-in closer look... 

I'll give you a massive hint-- none of the bags contain meat or dairy. think you've guessed the grand total? then scroll down ⬇︎

did you say $165?

nope! 🙄

did you say $210?

negatory! 😲

you went higher? 

"$325?" you shock-whisper...

WRONG AGAIN!! 👀

that cart, without meat or dairy, cost: $359.56(!!). 🤑

*sputter-gasp-cough-choke*

let's be honest, if those bags contained any meat or dairy products, the shock-and-awe price tag would've been $gazillion.56. #sheesh

btw... I hate (and loathe) to be the bearer of even worse news, but... regular flu season has begun, and there's a hum-dinger of an election coming up. just sayin', it miiight be the right time to apply at the World Bank Group for that loan... 

to purchase meat and dairy. 

#maytheoddsbe #everinyourfavor

Meijer and the CDC blues

PANDEMIC UPDATES: 

1. Michigan now requires face masks in all indoor public places, by law. I know this because Meijer told me so via a 3' folding A-frame sign, aaaannnddd a bouncer standing behind said sign, presumably to enforce said sign.

and by "bouncer" I mean an anemic, anorexic, meth-addict, who sips slim-fasts all day. #Icouldtakehim #💪🏼 #butIwont #playingbytherules

2. for the past 4 months these items on my grocery list have been AWOL. 

*antibacterial wipes

*isopropyl alcohol

*kippered snacks (quick protein source, don't judge)

*Dave's bread

*Vitamin D gummies 

*vinyl gloves (my fave kitchen gadget for dealing with meat, don't judge)

each item listed has an evenly aligned, negative-space (artsy lingo for 'empty') row, fronted with a plastic Meijer-font description + price, but no actual item to seal the deal. 

week after week feels like Meijer just shrugs at these items and thinks, "meh, they won't notice. let's stock up on packets of turkey gravy instead."

3. the superstore feels a bit... exhausted. 

all the happy little blue and white footprint floor stickers, giving me an exact 6' guesstimate where to queue-up, are now worn, torn, or reduced to a circle smudge of sticky. so now, Mr. Coughing Through My Turtleneck feels more like 6" away. 

the greeters hope I think they're smiling behind the masks, but the eyes don't lie. and all the antibacterial wipes they hand out, become dried pieces of litter all over the store, carts, and the parking lot-- egads! it just hit me--no wonder there aren't any wipes on the shelves!

4. I forgot my AirPods today, so I got to "experience" a pandemic background playlist. 

it sucks. when did grocery shopping become so moody, so slow-jam, so I got the blues, with a dose of reality hit-list of rules and regs from the CDC? 

*sigh* I never thought I would pine so hard for the perky tunes of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, Danke Schoen, or Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

gotta be honest, I'm ending this post searching for a bright side, a silver-lining, and all I can come up with is...

won't have to go back to the superstore for another 10 days 😟, and 🤞🏼 that a vaccine comes out in 9. #remembertheairpods

Meijer and the sexy sister-store

not to come off as dramatic or anything (who? me?), but when I turned right to exit the hospital's campus, I think I may have had a stroke. or saw a mirage...? 

because this barely-recognizable-as-a-Meijer seemed to vibrate into existence from the 96 degree heat vapors. up to this exact second, I had no idea that this... concept even existed! maybe I can (and will) blame COVID-19 shelter-in-place restrictions.

but here I am, reeling in a new reality--Meijer, the superstore, has been outdone by none other than... ITSELF! *brain implosion*

let me, in a series of pics and words, unpack (←new buzzword, gotta keep the blog fresh) this pic.

Meijer blue and Meijer red colors? gone. in fact, I *overt eye-rolled* just thinking of that ridiculous color combo. #redwhiteandblue #pfft #beendone

typical Meijer windowless store front? bite your tongue! look at the "if I wanted to, I could open these garage-esque walls and look like a farmer's market" doors! 

here's another pic to bowl you over.

shiny, sleek, new(!), classic--yet trendy--black carts! *swoon* I am now loathe to admit it, but there was a day when the cobalt blue carts turned my head. btw, cobalt blue, sooo past tense.  

clutching the cart's smooth, barely been used handle to guide the still-round-not-mutilated-wheels, I glided into this outrageously sexy (which by extension made me sexy too, right? 👠) Meijer. 

the store's interior is over the top cool, mod, local-focused, organized, and all the other words that mean my head is boggled, in a good way(!). 


take a look see. 

it was (no-joke) so hard to look away from all this gorgeousness surrounding me, and focus on my iPhone's Reminders grocery list. 

after the 30th time of raising my phone to take yet another beauty shot, I was sure I would blow my heretofore incognito blogger life. #facemasktotherescue

I forced myself to stop the paparazzi-OCD, and when I finally reviewed my list, an interesting reality hit; "umm, this is no superstore." 

okaaaay. this Meijer is limited in variety/inventory, and smaller in square footage. so, sure, "market" is def the right descriptor.

for example, I couldn't find regular, everyday staple foods (Tostitos), or toiletries (Dove Beauty Bar). not to mention the aisles of salsa, and deodorant varieties were MIA. 

my honest review? *sigh* 

this Meijer: all sex appeal, baby.  

case in point: a Detroit based distillery pivoted from vodka production to hand sanitizer. this is sexy Meijer's answer to my pandemic hand sanitizer needs.

isn't that the most amazing $12.99 worth of hand sanitizer eye-candy you have ever seen during this pandemic? 

that cork-capped, vertical-textured, opaque-glass bottle display was just another figurative little black dress, stilettos, and candy-red lipstick addition to the Pleasure Island experience. 

a sudden thought struck me. my eyes flit from the sexy store's inventory, and focused/scrutinized the customers--would they be as sexy as the surroundings? or do "regular" people somehow ugly-stumble (like I did) into this oasis of perfectly placed inventory and aesthetics? 

side note: get this. I actually glanced down at my t-shirt and jeans, checked my lipstick, and zhuzhed my hair. suddenly worried my Meijer superstore standards wouldn't pass muster here. #whatevs 

I think I discovered a formula to describe the customer clientele: LA Fitness (lots of snapback bros & lulu lemon chicas) + Whole Foods (grocery $$$ price point & hipster sustainability) = Sexy Meijer Market. #doubleentendre

and to answer the question y'all are dyin' to ask: will she fickle-ditch the upgraded Marsha superstore for this newer, even more sexier sister-store? 

well... living the pandemic life has taught me something that I'll apply to this jaunt into Meijer's sexy side: there's essential, and then there's non-essential. 

and dang it(!), I want both. 

#pleaseandthankyou  

Meijer and the banes of pandemic society

it's a rare day when I find myself standing in solidarity with Meijer, the superstore.

I'm guessing 88.79% (too specific for guessing?) of my posts take a position opposite to Meijer's picture of the fantasy/ideal customer. 

*extremely brief introspective sigh*

but like I said, I'm playing by the rules while my county's COVID-19 numbers are ominously slapped with the title "nation's hot spot". 🔥 

about a month ago, in the throes of living the hot-spot life (a pandemic really changes the vibe of that cool/clubbing lingo), I donned a mask and strong-walked across the Meijer parking lot.

before I triggered the motion sensor for the sliding glass doors, I noted a sign asking for customers with the bullet-point symptoms to voluntarily refrain from entering the superstore, and requiring all who enter to wear a mask. ✓✓

knowing that bonafide surgical masks were scarcer than hen's teeth, (☜ for my Beverly Hillbillies' fans), I entered the store, sure that a doozy of a Meijer Chronicles post was about to unfold...

yeah, I spied the coveted N95 masks (what darkweb Amazon.com are they shopping at?!), and yes, surgical masks were all the rage, but then the variants got a little outlier-ish-y:

*sleep masks

*pulled up turtlenecks

*welder/grinder face shields

*'Merica neck gaiters 

*napkins held to face

*and a toddler-size sweater (you go haggard mom who forget a mask and used whatever was not vomited or peed on in the back seat 👊🏼)

these were great, after all, necessity is the mother of invention, but as I navigated through the superstore, I discovered... *cue ominous organ music* the Mask-Refusers. those bare-faced malefactors who belligerently(!), and figuratively, spat in the safety-goggled eye of the CDC's advice. 

oh, how I wish you could've seen the half-hidden fury of the Masked-Ones! who needs facial expressions, when the 👀 can say so much?! the side glances, wives elbowing their husbands, the pointing, the angry squints, the blatant smh(s).

I, along with three other tsk-tsk-ers, stood agape (behind our masks) in solidarity when a MR Obnoxious Cougher was approached by a Meijer associate, and politely asked to put on a mask, or leave the store. 

I'm guessing OC was formerly a FIFA player because her outrage had to have been coached. the massive-lung fed-up-to-HERE expletives, and final HUFF that came out of her was epic(!), as in great-woolly-mammoth exhale epic. #prehistoricepic #nextlevelstuff

after the massive huff, and subsequent coughing spasm, she abandoned her cart and stomp/stagger-coughed away. the Masked Vigilante Community dispersed; very pleased with ourselves, I might add.

as I swooped into the parchment paper aisle (on the lookout for more banes of society!), still riding the euphoria wave from ridding the dairy section (and quite possibly the entire store), of "Covid Mary," a glance of irritation from a fellow parchment paper lover startled me.

my hand flew to my mask, was I exposed?! no, mask in place, and covering my nose. I walked on, maybe the glance was a fluke(?). 

nope, not a fluke. aisle after aisle it became crystal-clear that I was now the target of disgruntled side-glances of the Masked-Ones. somehow, inconceivable to me, I had become a bane. 

I turned into the bottled marinara aisle, aka all things Little Italy, where the withering glances escalated into the you-are-dead-to-me stare! 

deciding against that week's spaghetti dinner plan, I made a dash to the end of the aisle, desperate to escape the stares and growls of the Corleone Family's henchmen. I darted into another aisle, and nearly careened into a cart leaving that aisle. 

it was Harried Mom, her toddler's Oshkosh Bgosh sweater-mask muffled her apology.

"so, sorry!" as she adjusted the tightness of the mask's sleeves. "I'm so clueless, I didn't notice the arrows on the floor! sorry!" she wheeled passed me.

I heard myself whisper behind my mask, "arrows? floor?"

I glanced down; blogger instincts took over, I snapped this pic...

*much longer, and embarrassed, introspective sigh*

"ladies and gentlemen, put your slow clap hands together for the banes of the pandemic society: Mask-Refusers and... One-Way Obliviants!"  🙋🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

Meijer and the what if—?! panic

living in COVID-19 Michigan means the quarantine-life has been going on for 40 days, and we get to look forward to (at least) 20 more. 

I've decided to play by the rules on this one-- not my typical adventurous, devil-may-care attitude, mostly because I keep getting this image in my head...

 
that's me, a knife at my throat and COVID-19 screaming-- "never go against a pandemic when death is on the line!" *maniacal laughter*

so, once every 10 days I take my SUV (gas tank still 7/8 full--40 days!!!) to the superstore to restock groceries and other necessities. I choose Meijer for the mostly-reliable one-stop shopping, or as we like to say in Michigan, "one-stop = minimal exposure shopping." #favesaying

sheesh. gonna be honest, this pandemic is messing with my grocery game. yeah, I create meticulous lists, you bet'cha. but all checked-twice-list bets are off when I walk through the superstore's "airlock." (⬅️ that word(!) doesn't live up to it's hype. #pandemicstandards)

It feels like I live a dual pandemic-panic shopping life:
rational me: sticks religiously to my list
vs.
irrational me: spies a fishing pole, and thinks, "I don't have this... what if the pandemic gets so bad that I have to start fishing?!" 

before you know it, I'm wedging a rod, reel and fluorescent lures (big enough to tempt Free Willy) between two dozen eggs, coconut milk, a box of those posh "fireplace" matches, the what-if-we-lose-power?! hibachi, and a pair of what-if-there's-a-flood?! hip-waders.

the rational-me list, firmly gripped in my left hand, snaps me back. I review the cart's contents, giving each item a serious rethink.

I discard the posh matches. #frivolous 

I rededicate myself to my list, and head to Pharmacy for some Vitamin D gummies. 

I flatly ignore aisle after aisle of reading glasses, canes, wrist bandages, foot supports/powder, allergy relief, no-pooping relief, back pain relief; judiciously resisting each of their what if—?! arguments. 

I am nearly passed the last fill-in-the-blank body part pain relief. I'm thisclose to reaching the wall of gummy vitamin delights when-- 

I stop dead in my tracks. evolutionary instincts take over; with my peripheral vision I watch my phone-hand raise, thumb hovers over the camera button...

*click*




honestly, I have no idea what I've discovered. clearly, I can read, but never, ever(!) have I seen the words "EAR" and "Candles" paired together-- much less packaged with a set of sketchy directions, and a photo of a human with a candle sticking out of her head. 

the longer I stare at this cock-eyed (cock-eared?) product, rational thought slips away, replaced with my irrational evil-twin; "what if the pharmacy runs out of the prescription stuff of whatever this does?!" 

the scientific claims on the packaging come into focus:
"naturally relaxing" 
me: eyes flit back to the photo, "oohhh, she's relaxed! not in a meds-induced coma."

"handcrafted beeswax candles" 
me: "a gold clip-art graphic official seal. seems legit."

"Luxury Collection"
me: "gasp, and only $8.99." 

again, I take inventory of my cart. 

I rethink the eggs.

Meijer and the art of pandemic war

I know what you're thinking...

"more "empty-shelves-at-a-grocery-store" pics? *yawn*"

NOPE! 

well, maybe one... zoom in on that 10 for $10 sale sign, go ahead, I'll wait...

I promise you, I sly-scanned every cart that came within the decreed "that's close enough" 6 feet of me, but I could not find Mr(s). Broccoli Crown Hoarder.

however, zoom in a bit more, see white-stripe joggers dude? he is what we call in the Pandemic Insanity biz, "amateur." you come to the superstore to play hoarder hardball and you pre-fill one cart with humans?! *riotous laughter that ends with COVID-19 wheeze*

unlike the amateur superstore shoppers, I had a plan, a list, and an empty cart. #PandemicAftermath101 

here's my list:
protein food
dairy food
produce food

my list is so brilliant, even Sun Tzu would be impressed! that list is the epitome of a couple of massively important war concepts: 
war plan vs. realities of war
premise of adaptation aka, rolling-with-the-punches

clearly I took that pic in the superstore's produce section, and when a quick google search for "citron turnip breadfruit recipes" came back with zilch, *agape shock!* I moved on to the top of my list, protein food.

I turn the corner from produce area into meat section, I stop, and utter this word, "keto."

suddenly all of southeast MI is keto?! I'm staring at the only package of beef stomach tripe, I can't help but wonder; were there more tripes? I envision a multi-Meijer-Crazies tripe fight, but then in my IRL peripheral vision, I see a broken jar of pigs feet on the floor with it's protective yellow "slippery when wet" cone guarding the kinda-sorta-homicidal scene. 

wincing, I type in google's search field, how to cook... I mutter, "and not vomit,"
t-r-i-- I can't do it. I completely wuss-out on a google search. now-- now I'm feeling it. that feeling of panic, the "what's for dinner?!" discomfort/inner-dread. 

I remind myself that 2 out of 3 foods on my brilliant list were fails. I MUST come through in the dairy section. I'm not walking anymore, I'm fast-walking. the clickety-clack of that bad front wheel on the cart is whirring an urgent hum; daaaaaaiiiirrrrryyyyyy!

I skid to a stop in front of that massive wall of refrigerator doors-- 

side note: as I think back on it, I should've tilted the camera to my face and taken a "how-do-I-bring-home-6-pint-bottles-of-buttermilk-to-my-loved-ones" selfie. #onedayyoulllookbackandlaughmoment

my empty cart's wheel is just annoying-squeaking now as I crumple my stupid, unbrilliant list in my hand. 

still, there's a tiny part of me that refuses to give in; even as I walk passed aisle after empty aisle. I refuse to be beaten by the lack of google's recipe genius! I refuse to believe that I have to put stomach into my... stomach(!), and I refuse to believe that Sun Tzu didn't prepare me for everything war could throw my way.

two marauders "rushed" Meijer customers force me to swerve to the right, and at that moment a light went on.💡no, seriously. no metaphor, the sensor light behind the frozen food door flickered on. 

but-- that's when the metaphorical lightbulb flipped on in my head. this time I did raise my camera and took these pics while muttering...

"fruit pies. produce food."


"peanut butter ice cream. protein food."


and then, I glanced to my right, and the rest of the wall of frozen-miracles lit up. in awe, I whispered: "multi-colored, artificial-flavored ice cream. dairy food!"

it was as if Sun Tzu guided me to a rainbow, symbolic with a promise that I wouldn't lose this hoarder's battle, that it will all workout. 

well, eating that much ice cream means I'll have to workout, but hey, this is war!