Confessions of a not-so-hot shopper, cleaner

I think of myself how others may not see me at all — as a reasonably savvy grocery shopper and as a decent housekeeper who likes order.

But I proved myself wrong on both counts this past week, including at the grocery store where I was buying some watermelons for a group feast.

It is wrong to be a prideful watermelon shopper.

So far this watermelon season, I have had great success with purchasing them, though, which is basically a hit-or-miss pursuit honestly.

Yes, I look for the watermelon to be a certain shape and size, and yes, I look at the ends to be sure there’s that yellowish brownish patch that’s supposed to be an indicator of sweetness, and yes, I knock on the watermelon, listening for a certain hollow sound that’s supposed to be another sign of a good watermelon ready for a picnic, but I do wonder what on earth would I do if I heard a knock in response to mine.

A store attendant asked if I needed any help, and I smugly but sweetly declined.

“I’ve had really good luck with picking good watermelons,” I announced, the words no sooner contaminating the area around me when I realized I had probably jinxed myself.

A lady near me perked up at my admission, wondering aloud if my expertise extended to cantaloupes or honeydew.

Though the prospect made my head swell even more, I admitted it did not. I turned off my fruit halo and put several giant watermelons in my buggy, my aerobics workout for the day.

By the time I got around to slicing those watermelons for a picnic-style gathering, I made two alarming discoveries.

The watermelons were a pinkish color I don’t prefer, and they had black seeds everywhere.

What??!! They still make watermelons with seeds??!!

Why yes they do, by golly, and labels on the watermelon will indicate that, if you’re a savvy shopper who pays attention to such things.

Oops. My bad. I cut the watermelons and extracted all the seeds as punishment.

What was I going to do — take the cut-in-half watermelons back to the store, leaving a dripping trail of juice in my wake, complaining that I can’t read such little labels? Oh well.

I always think my surroundings are pretty tidy, and I am generally mortified to discover otherwise.

The other day, Better Half and I were sitting on the back porch, and I was getting ready to go in the kitchen to pour a glass of ice tea.

“Grab me a toothpick, will ya’?” Better Half asked.

Well, I grabbed a toothpick from the box that sits on a little corner counter by the stove, and I no sooner quickly touched a toothpick from the little box when it started to fall to the floor — with all the toothpicks headed on their way to the floor.

Only the weirdest thing happened on their downward descent.

They became suspended at varying points down by a major cobweb I didn’t even realize was there.

Wow. Another proud housekeeping moment.

I should probably take a mental health day from work to properly recuperate.

(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at jkiaski@heraldstaronline.com.)