Everything is delivered to me. I finally feel like the princess I was always meant to be. Except I’m paying for it all.
I’m a member of Amazon Prime Fresh. I have my groceries delivered to me on a weekly basis, and I’m not ashamed. Once, at my lowest point, I had no clean underwear for the next day, so I broke down and ordered a pair of panties from Amazon Fresh. They were delivered at 5am on my doortstep, shrink-wrapped with love. I hoped it wasn’t some strange signal I was delivering to my Amazon Prime delivery guy.
I also have full meals delivered to me via Eat24. I literally hit “reorder” and my Natalie Thai comes just on time and just as expected, with too many fortune cookies to keep track of. I have uncooked, gourmet meals delivered to me via Blue Apron, where I spend an hour mincing garlic, pickling grapes, & shucking corn–feeling like I’m some kind of mad genius chef. Really all I’m doing is taking the perfectly divided ingredients out of their bags & following a picture by picture recipe of how to make a meal I can’t pronounce.
Everything else is Amazon Primed, either carefully selected after reading 100+ reviews or selected without any thought after guzzling too many glasses of wine. Guzzle is the wrong word. I promise I don’t guzzle wine.
All this delivery has given me is complete freedom. Some people love shopping, trying clothes on, feeling things with their hands, talking to sales people, getting second and third opinions. It is all my worst nightmare. If I ever go shopping with someone as an activity, I have no idea what to do (unless my mom is buying everything, then I’m really really great at it). I don’t want a shopping buddy’s opinion. The only only reason to go to the mall ever is for Wetzel Pretzel, where I reward myself for making it out to the mall.
The grocery store is equally terrible. Pushing a cart around in aisles with too many people–all of whom are standing in front of that cereal you REALLY need. And I’m not a list person, so I end up with lots of taco shells, gum & apples–frustrated when I make it home and still don’t have enough to put together a meal.
The best reward for all of this: I don’t need a Saturday to run errands anymore. Now I have a Saturday to just run. The car sits in the drive way, getting dirtier and dirtier because I can’t find a car wash delivery service. I’m sure some drone with a sponge attached to it will be available within the next year or so. Happy Weekend–so sorry if yours includes going to an actual grocery store.