Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk

As I’ve mentioned, time is not on my side these days. In the rare day or hour that I have to myself, I’m not motivated to do anything that I “should” do. This includes, rather strongly, the grocery store.

I’ve been fairly good about going and stocking up, but, lately, it’s just too much. When I even think about it, it becomes overwhelming. The only free times I have tend to be on the weekends and the grocery is just so crowded then. It is also so large and I need so many different things, it’s a whole production to get groceries. Then, of course, I have to bring it home carry it in the house, up the stairs and put everything away. Then some of it gets carried back down stairs to the freezer in the garage. It’s a lot of damn work for one girl.

Then, on Sunday, I had an epiphany.


It is a small country market in Lake Elmo. A tiny, community grocery store. Not too large, not overwhelming and they hire strapping young lads to carry your groceries out to the car for you. Bliss.

Now, I’m no fool. I understand that a small market like this will cost me more money. Right now, it is totally worth it. I will happily pay the higher prices for the convenience, and that it doesn’t take so long and it does not overwhelm me. On Saturday, late afternoon, I also needed gas (did I mention that Hagbergs is ALSO a gas station?!?) and I left LEPL and drove straight there.

Before getting out of my car, I grabbed for my wallet. Gone.

Dammit. I could have cried. I knew exactly where it was, on my bench in my entry way, where I had placed it last night, when I got home. I have a habit of putting anything I need to take with me on the stairs, because I then have to pass by it on my way out the door and I don’t forget things. I didn’t follow the system and it cost me.

I had no money of any kind.

I went home. Once home, good luck getting me to leave again. I was in for the night. I still had leftovers, so I ate that. But then, Sunday morning, no food and a week of 75 hours staring me in the face; it was go to the store or eat out all week. And since starting this schedule in June, I’m already supremely sick of fast food. I psyched myself up to go to the store.

No dice. It made me miserable to think about it. My only day off and spending close to two hours dealing with groceries made me want to throw a damn tantrum. Which is only effective when you don’t live alone.

Then, that same epiphany struck me again. This time, harder. “Hey dummy, there’s no reason you can’t go to Hagbergs NOW!” Somehow, I had it in my head that it was only convenient because it is two blocks from LEPL. But, it’s only about a 15 minute drive….and off I went.

I got gas in my car and then went inside, with my wallet and list in hand. I shopped and got everything I needed. Yes, I was right, it is more expensive. Not prohibitively, but surely. The only thing that caused my mouth to gape open was milk.

A single gallon of milk was $3.95

FOUR DOLLARS for a gallon of milk. At Rainbow, where I usually shop, it is $2.29. This is almost double the price. Even the gas station, which is higher, runs it for $3.00/gallon. I actually considered stopping at a completely different gas station just to save a dollar on a gallon of milk. Then I realized the stupidity of that idea and I just bought the damn thing.

Eventually, I was done, someone else bagged my groceries and a strapping young lad loaded them into the car and I was off for home. I pulled in the garage and started unloading my groceries.

I had a bag in my left hand and reached into the car with my right to grab that gallon of milk. Somehow, and I’m not really sure how, something caught the bottom of the open door. My clothes? The bag of groceries? I don’t know. But when I shifted, pulling out the milk, the movement caused the door to shut. I was still in the motion of pulling out the milk and the closing door clipped that gallon.

Just like that, in the blink of an eye, I lost my grip and the milk flew from my hand. Up in the air it went, and down it crashed onto the cement floor.

Naturally, just naturally, it broke open in a big way and there was















It splashed on my legs and my car, but mostly, it flowed out onto the floor of my garage and out into my driveway.

I stood stock still, willing myself not to cry in frustration. I watched that milk pour out of the broken container and I saw the mess and didn’t know what to do. I don’t own a mop (well, not one I am willing to use outside in my dirty garage) and I don’t have a hose out front and I was unable to fathom how I would clean this mess.

Finally, I shook off my stupor and carried the rest of the groceries inside. I came back down and saw that the leaking had stopped. I picked up the milk jug and there was still milk inside. I carried it in the house and poured it in a glass. 1/2 a glass of milk. That is all I was able to salvage.

I took a photo of the broken jug so you could see just how thoroughly it broke.


That bugger broke wide open.

Now, it was downstairs to figure out the mess in the garage.

That’s the bulk of it. I couldn’t even fit all the splatter in a photo, so I settled for the bulk of the mess. And yes, it is running rivulets down my driveway and into the street. Seems my garage, like my driveway, slopes downward. This is to my benefit, it seems, but I still had to clean it up.

Then, my eyes lit upon my tiny watering can. My mom bought it for me last summer and she deliberately bought me a small one because I only ever have one plant. I filled it up and watered the garage floor.

And refilled it.

And refilled it.

And refilled it.

Ten times I had to fill it and rinse milk out of my garage. I then pulled out the push broom and “swept” out as much of the mess as possible. Sweeping was more effective than I had imagined….

Finally, there was no visible trace of milk in the garage. It gets so hot in there during the day, I didn’t want to come home and smell spoiled milk after work tonight. Fingers crossed.

Then I walked out to the street to see the mess out there.


See that car? The trail of milk extends further than that car. It runs pretty clear by my house, but gets considerably milkier as it trails onward.

Dear God, what a messtastrophe.

But, including milk cleanup and drive time, the whole trip to get groceries, spill and clean milk and put away what I didn’t destroy only took an hour and 20 minutes, so that’s a positive.

However, this is now the tale of how I spent $3.95 on a 1/2 a glass of milk.

And how I have to stop at the gas station, tonight, to buy milk.

It wouldn’t really be so bad if I cried over spilled milk, would it?

8 thoughts on “Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk

  1. So sorry that you broke your expensive milk:( Good idea to go to Hagbergs though.
    The water and pushbroom always work well!
    Me thinks you work too much:)

    • Methinks you’re absolutely right. But yes, Hagbergs was a good idea.

      Truly almost called you, not because I needed your help but because I was so damn frustrated. Today, I find it a lot funnier. And it was fine in the long run, just had to deal with it.

    • …neck. Right-o.

      Wow, can’t believe you did it, too. It’s awful. A gallon is a LOT of milk. And why don’t they make those containers sturdier, anyway?

    • Seriously? Milk is that much more expensive down there? Our grocery store is $2.29 but at least one week a month they run it on sale for $1.89.

      Perhaps its because we have so many cows up here….

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