Hoping To Cut It

There are truly some wonders at the grocery store. It's easy to forget how special it is by the standards of the world even now, but that place is really something. I can go there any time day or night, and that's not to be sneezed at. Whereas many are content if they can find the thing they need at their local place at all, we are blessed with countless options for most things. There are those at the low end, the midrange and the high end of the economic scale. It's really something.

I was looking at the mustards. These days, ketchups can be gourmet and upscale, but it used to be there was just one type, so mustards used to really amaze me. There are the regular yellow mustards, the spicy ones, the sweet ones and more. Some are in plastic squeeze bottles, and some come in glass. Some are American, some French and some British. There must be dozens, and I wouldn't know how to explain that to some of the world's poor.

I was thinking of buying some cheap plain mustard to provide a change of pace from mayonnaise on my sandwiches. After a heated internal debate, I opted to forgo the expense of 69 cents, but I entertained the idea for a while. I even engaged in some fantasy. I thought of what it might be like to buy the fancy British mustard. It came in a little glass jar that scarcely seemed as if it could have any left in it after one plundered it with their knife just once.

I have aspirations like anyone. I dream of really making it, or at the very least living a life of moderate success. Some people maybe consider the fruits of great success to be houses, cars, clothes and electronics, but they ought not to overlook those little things that make it somewhat worth being wealthy. The idea of having the really nice mustard appeals to me, and it's a show of material wealth that isn't so ostentatious as to isolate a person. I couldn't bear that.