
Before my fury could start curdling the dairy section, I stopped asking a pottle of nouveau riche fish paste rhetorical questions and let my anger subside. The world hadn't fallen over when the Malaysian-spiced chicken fillets I liked had been cancelled, nor had anarchy reigned following the non-availability of Bubble and Squeak Veggie Patties. I realised that I had become so spoilt by the variety of choice available to me I took it personally when one of the options had been removed. What had I done to pull down the wrath of the Ǚber-Marché? I can change, I can be a better shopper. I'll redeem my coupons, make full use of the Christmas savings plan and put my trolley back in the bay instead of leaving it at the foot of the car park like I had that one time I just popped in for milk and then rushed home so I wouldn't miss the start of House.
At this point I realised I'd started bargaining with an imaginary God of the supermarket. I was scared that I would begin grieving over my lost Aioli or denying that I even wanted it in the first place so I skipped ahead, accepted that it was gone and moved on to the next item on the list.
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