There’s some movement to do things organically that I really like in theory like pie-making from scratch. But like always, five minutes into doing anything “from scratch,” and I realize it was a terrible idea. Perhaps if I had a bitch a home to do them for me, I’d be a real proponent of making my own, doing my own and expending far more energy than is necessary. But alas…
Enter: Our saviors.
Amazon Prime has been killing it for years. And with two-day shipping. With Amazon Pantry and Subscribe and Save I magically receive a box of toilet paper large enough to wipe the asses of an army on a monthly basis, building up an arsenal of diarrhea defenders. I’ve ordered razors, paper toweling, body wash and more. I can buy a six-month supply of tampons shipped directly to my door and no one is the wiser, wondering what the hell is up with my flow.
As I became less inclined to make a run to the store I began ordering more obscure items – black leotards for ballet, IPad cases and school supplies. I will go to great lengths to not be inconvenienced or forced to fight a crowd of peasants over some Christmas goody bags. Though it’s not yet available in my area, Amazon Prime Now offers one and two hour delivery! That temptress hasn’t ventured into our suburb because she is not ready for what we’ll do to her.
Toward the end of last summer Walmart began grocery pickup and I thought I’d died and gone to Lazy Bitch Heaven. This was great for us for two reasons.
1. I hate food shopping because I’m inherently lazy, it’s always hot as hell in grocery stores and I don’t suffer the fools well. Five minutes of being on the heels of some space cadet with her four wild animal children is enough to drive my blood pressure up for me to need some fucking meditation.
2. My husband, who loves to grocery shop, has a little problem. He can run in for a loaf of French Bread and leave $300 later with a bunch of useless shit we don’t need and won’t use before it goes bad.
So you go online (which is my life most of the day anyway), online shop (which should have been what I got my graduate degree in. Seriously, I don’t know anyone who can find online coupon codes like I can), and then magically pick up your groceries at a time you get to choose. There’s even an app now that you can check in on and it maps you in real time as you drive, alerting them to when you pull into the lot. You don’t even have to get out of the friggin’ car! You know exactly how much you’re spending and it inhibits your ability to impulse buy.
For six months Walmart Grocery pickup had me in its grips. I got to know the guy who loaded my groceries and almost felt compelled to get him a Christmas gift (except that my intentions are always better than my follow-through). And then the new, fancy H-E-B entered my world.
I watched for six months as they built the behemoth in Kingwood, planning great things. I’ve still not actually been in the store because the size of it overwhelms me but I don’t need to venture in. Shortly after they broke ground, they announced that our new, shiny H-E-B would begin its H-E-B Curbside service, which is really just one big wet dream.
The online interface is similar to Walmart Grocery’s, albeit a little fancier. You can make specific demands on produce. If you order 4 avocados – you can specify whether you want them hard as green fucking rocks or mushy, black and ready for its future as guacamole that afternoon. They developed more of a technologically advanced interface and it texts you when your groceries are ready or when there’s a substitution for you to approve. When you arrive, you pull into a stall and text them and they run out with your groceries and load them for you, ala Walmart’s service.
Last night I discovered Door Dash delivers in my area. Sure, there’s a small fee but sometimes I’d happily shut up and give them my money to not venture out to 1960 to pick us up something to go. On those busy night when we don’t leave dance until 7:30 p.m. and I couldn’t figure out how to throw some frozen shit in the Instant Pot, I’d gladly pay double to have a decent non-fast food dinner ready to go. And even though I answered the door at 8 p.m. smeared mascara, screaming at my kid to hurry up in the shower and sans bra (which is, let’s face it, a treat), my Dasher was no nice and cheery that it wiped my Resting Bitch Face right off.
So call me lazy. Tell me that I’m taking the “easy way out.” Mock my need for complete efficiency but you know, there’s no award for spending the maximum amount of time on bullshit you hate doing. There’s no Martyr of the Year ceremony for you and you don’t get a medal for being the most exasperated person on the planet. Do yourself a favor and work smarter, not harder.
And fuck off for judging me.
Have any work smarter, not harder hacks you’d like to share judgment free? Comment!