One thing that never changes is how concerned people are about the eggs you buy at the supermarket.

You pick up a moldy lemon, the lettuce is wilting, the milk is leaking ~ all hardly noticed ~ but no checkout person in history ever passed up a chance to open your eggs and make sure none are broken.

Of course, you’ve already done this. Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe you almost bought a broken egg – imagine the horrors to find this out when you get home.

If there does happen to be a broken egg, everyone understands that the checkout person will flag someone down to get you a new pack. It’ll be announced storewide, “Shoppers on 5 need new eggs.” No one questions this and no one complains. In a world of climate change, horrible politics, opioid crisis, desparity between rich and poor, we’ve got this one thing we all agree on – good service when it comes to buying eggs.

On the other hand, what happened to manageable size grocery bags? I don’t even go to Planet Fitness anymore cause I get my exercise from shopping at Hannaford’s. Half of isle 2 is packed into my bag as I carry it into the house. And this doesn’t bode well for eggs.

Not too long ago, Rich and I were leaving Hannaford’s with the usual ridiculously heavy bags. Despite how careful they were at checkout, someone decided to plop the eggs on top of a very full bag. Rich and I each use our own groceries carts, those mini-ones. We each get what we need, then head into the line together. This is pretty much our idea of a date.

So after we’re all checked out, Rich’s cart got the eggs, of course, and you already know what happened. Rich stops to pump the hand sanitizer on our way out, rubs his hands, then starts up again, slightly jolting the cart. The eggs can’t handle it, they go flying out of the cart, every single one of them, smashing right at the Hannford’s exit door.

Rich runs off to get help so now I’m standing there with two carts full of food, gross eggs everywhere, people walking in giving me that look – “ohhhhhh, look what you did.” Sneer.

I can’t stand there another minute and decide to get the groceries to the car at least. I’m walking away from the egg mess with two carts, now getting horrifying looks, as if, yes, I just dumped a dozen eggs and am, in fact, leaving the scene.

Meanwhile Rich is coming. He’s got a whole new pack of eggs – which have been thoroughly checked two or three times. He’s holding them with both hands. He was shooed off and told that everything was under control and the clean-up crew has arrived. Thank you sir, thank you for your business. Don’t you worry even one minute about those dozen lost eggs.