I HATE W.INCO WHICH ALMOST KILLED ME

As previously promised I am delivering the blog post as titled above. To be honest, I had gotten over my anger at W.inCo and was thus going to forget about this post altogether but then today it double-crossed me again and I won't stand for the betrayal!

First of all, I had never heard of W.inCo until I moved to Oregon and for those that don't know it's a big grocery chain that is different from all the others in that it's much cheaper and you bag your own groceries. Oh, and it tries to kill you.

A few weeks ago I went for the first time and wandered around wide-eyed and salivating at the amazing prices. I bought approximately 35 different kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables. I patted myself on the back for being so thrifty. I patted myself on the womb for being so healthy.

Before leaving, I grabbed a pre-made salad for lunch. At home I ate said salad. A few hours later (and for the following 36 hours) I became deathly ill and threw up fifteen times. Now, this would be a nasty twist of fate for anyone, but for someone with a pregnancy as difficult on the stomach as mine has been, this was downright cruel and unusual punishment. I thought very mean thoughts about W.inCo and cursed the moment I plucked that fateful salad from its shelf.

The very next morning I looked at the fresh W.inCo cantaloupe resting on the kitchen counter to ripen. The entire bottom of it was COVERED in fresh black mold. I screamed. Dave gasped. We threw it (and all of the rest of the produce I'd bought) away and vowed never to buy food from that horrible store again.

In the weeks that have followed and as the horror of those incidents has faded, I have tried to keep a firm resolve. But little niggling thoughts accost me. "This would be cheaper at WiiiiiiinCo," chirps the angel on one shoulder as I glance at a box of cereal at Safeway. Or, "These are twice the price of WiiiiiinCo's Wheat Thins," as I loiter in the cracker aisle of Fred Meyers. The devil on the other shoulder shouts back, "Do you mean to tell me you've forgotten? Do you mean to say you have a death wish?"

The angel won. Dave assured me we could count on W.inCo not to mess up boxed goods. And then our friends fed us some cheap and delicious Umpqua brand ice cream that they don't even sell at the regular grocery stores, and the decision was made. I was going back. No produce would I buy, but maybe some boxed goods and some lovely half-priced ice cream.

I went back today. I stoically turned up my nose at the veggies. I bravely ignored the fresh fruits. I filled my cart with treasures that W.inCo couldn't destroy by getting them a week after every other grocery store did. I got the cheap ice cream. I knew we needed milk too, and though I debated about this, I got some for Dave, who downs about a gallon every three days. "It's not even produce," the angel comforted. "But it could spoil! Something could go wrong!" shouted the devil. But I plopped it in my cart. I checked out. I bagged my groceries. I drove home. I opened my trunk and THE ENTIRE CARTON OF MILK HAD CRACKED AND LEAKED ALL OVER MY TRUNK!!!!!

"I HATE W.INCO WHICH IS TRYING TO KILL ME AGAIN!!!" I yelled to Pixie as I sopped up loads of soggy milk which will no doubt have my car smelling like a rotten tuna factory in no time. Pixie blinked at me. I think she hates it too.