Whenever I “run to Columbus” I usually try to make it a multi-purpose trip. I don’t live out in the boonies, but I do live far enough away that it makes sense to make good use of my time and, now that I own the company truck, my fuel.

Good-golly, hopping-Jehoshaphat, I’ve put $163 worth of diesel in that thing since I retired. The company benefits are gone.

Anyways. I had a dentist appointment yesterday. I’ll spare you all the potential story lines that went through my head while the hygienist probed and poked and scrapped around inside the orifice on the front of my face with both hands. A good time was had by all.

That was the main purpose of my trip into Columbus. So, once we left the dentist’s office (Max was with me) I had a short list of other things to do.

1. Buy diesel fuel and just look the other way.
2. Buy a hose nozzle. I own crappy, broken, leaky nozzles and I’m tired of it.
3. Get a haircut. Things are getting bushy.
4. Buy fresh fish to cook for supper.

The first two were easy. The Wal-Mart Market fuel station and the Ace Hardware are both right across the street from the dentist’s office. So, when making my “go-to-town” list in my head, not only do I think about what needs to be done while there; I think about what can be done in close proximity to my primary destination. I’m not one to be running all over town. It’s important that I am frugal with diesel gold.

I really am an old geezer.

I love this particular Ace store. It is clean and neat and organized and full of cool guy stuff. And unlike the Big-Boys, they have people working the aisles that don’t run from you and who actually know where everything in the store is shelved.

“Can I help you find something?”

“I’m looking for a nozzle for the end of my water hose.”

“Right down aisle 9 on your left.” He guides me to the display. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

My problem in a store like this is that I get what I want and then I roam around. If I go inside Wal-Mart, I shoot a beeline to what I came for and get the heck outta there. I set shopping records in most stores. I go in for one purpose and I get out.

Not at this Ace store.

The rachet straps look good. I have four of them already, but some of these new ones look better than mine. I move on. Then, there’s the rope. Rope always speaks my name as I imagine all the things I could tie up and put away neatly, if only I had the right rope for the job.

Next, I spot the chain. I should leave now because I remember back a few months ago that I had a need for a short piece of chain but now I can’t recall what for, but the idea that I might need it again begins to over-ride my sense of common sense, and I start seriously looking at the clevis hooks for either end of the new chain I might be about to buy.

By the time I checked out, I left the store with a nozzle and a 4ft length of 5/16 chain, a grab hook on one end and a choker hook on the other. I guess I’ll figure out why I need it later. In the meantime, I’m sure of two things. When I do need it, I’ll have it. Secondly, I’ll look for it and won’t remember where I put it.

Next, I’m on to the new Publix in town. This store has been the subject of almost every conversation I’ve had lately with friends in Columbus.

“Have you seen the new Publix they’re building?”

“What?”

“Do you live under a rock? It’s going up out there at Midland Crossing. It’s supposed to be an all-new design. More modern. More features. More everything.”

“Do you think it will have groceries?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

Watching this structure rise up out of the construction dust has caused more excitement than when the Olympics came to town back in 1996.

One friend told me. “I waited on opening day. I was one of the first 25 people to enter the store. I was blown away. It was so amazing.”

This is speech typically reserved for something like the opening of Truist Park, not Publix.

So, I had to check it out. It wasn’t that far from the dentist, and the hardware store. Fresh asphalt and paint stripes in the parking lot. Clean curbs. Trees planted in concrete islands in pairs and no two in any pair were the same species tree. I know, I notice these things when nobody cares.

The inside was extremely nice. Well stocked. I walked a few aisles to see if they had some of my usual stuff that I buy, and they did. Not every store carries what I’m looking for.

When I got back to the fresh fish counter, Kathleen asked how she could help me.

“I want a couple of those catfish fillets.”

“Oh, those are nice,” she says with a smile. “What you going to do with those?”

“I’m gonna batter and fry them up for supper tonight.”

“I love me some fried catfish,” she says. “If you’re gonna make hush puppies, the mix is right over there on that second aisle.”

“Am I gonna make hush puppies with fried catfish? Is the Pope Catholic?” I got a strange look. “Thanks, but I make my own hush puppies.”

I picked up a fresh lemon in produce. I checked out the coffee aisle. Looked over the kitchen utensils. Nobody sells a good old-fashioned icepick anymore. Did you know that? Look for one. You can’t find one in the store anywhere these days. Maybe they’re afraid someone will use it as a weapon. They sell cutlery knives all day long. But negatory on the icepick.

I wandered off down by the bakery. A batch of oatmeal & raison cookies went in my tote-basket.

When I got up front, I saw a modern-day miracle. There were at least six, maybe 8 checkout lines. Everyone of them were staffed. Cashier and a bagger. I can’t tell you the last time I saw all checkout lines in operation anywhere. I don’t go to the self-check lines because they take plastic, and I don’t normally do plastic when I’m picking up just a few small items.

I was next in line when it hit me. I was supposed to go get a haircut while in town.

Dang it! I should have done that BEFORE coming to the grocery store.

Now, I’ve got cold fish in white wrapping paper. It’s hotter than hades outside. Even with the truck AC running for Max, I don’t want my catfish sitting on the front seat while I get my locks trimmed.

Then I remembered. I’m a free man. I can get a haircut anytime.

This retirement gig feels pretty good.