Fresh Market is my Crack Cocaine

I bought a bunch of french green beans at Fresh Market today. I believe I bought them because they were long, skinny, bright green and stacked and shrinkwrapped carefully so that the stems were all pointing the same direction. I picked them up and dreamily imagined slicing cleanly through all the ends at once with a very sharp knife. Then, in my fantasy, I laid them neatly in the steamer in a horizontal block, and seasoned them with lemon butter cracked black pepper and...

When I got them home, I noticed they cost $8.33.

What's wrong with me? Why can't I say no to this place? As soon as I walked in the door I felt happy. There! There's that lovely French vanilla poundcake seductively dusted with a mere shake of powdered sugar. Just enough to tease, but not to be overwhelming. I trotted happily over to the cheese case and did not even blink once when I turned over the coveted wedge of Midnight Moon and saw it was $11.00.

I feel silly pushing this bicycle-basket of a shopping cart and coming out of there with $100 of nothing really to eat.

Can you imagine what it would cost if the shopping cart was one of those double-wide jobs at Kroger? I'd be out an entire paycheck! Why, my Vera Bradley Java Blue alone took up half of this cart and I still got stung for $99 and change.

So don't be surprised if you see me eating at my desk this week, savoring paper thin flakes of Midnight Moon on Breton crackers. Don't laugh at me if I microwave a few green beans to go with it.

I'll be back in Kroger Rehab once spring hits. I'll start detox easy, with visits to Jimmy's Ukropia then go cold turkey to Costco. But right now, I need a fix.