a life of quiet desperation

Tonight I walked to the grocery store in 8 degree weather. I forgot to put on my long johns on my lower half (I actually call them tights, for which all my friends make fun of me), and it turns out jeans aren’t very insulating. Upon arriving at the grocery store, I realized that I am in many ways not a unique human being, as my mother would have me think. I wanted soup. They were sold out of almost every kind. I ended up buying some really generic kind just so I could have chicken noodle. It tasted a little like metal. Then I wanted some saltines to go with that soup. They were out of those too. Apparently, in some ways, I’m just another — as Thoreau would say — of the mass of men leading lives of quiet desperation...for soup.

By the way, this is what 8 degrees looks like.