In Which Our Heroine is Reminded that She Lives in New Jersey

New Jersey is the most densely populated state in the union, a fact that I frequently forget. My morning commute doesn't feature too much traffic. And I usually drive home at 3:30, well before the roads are busy. I work on a wooded school campus along the banks of a river that is under the protection of the state's historical commission. I do live on a sometimes busy street in a small town; but sometimes busy is a relative term here....we're talking about maybe a dozen cars passing by at the commuter witching hour. And my house is set back on from the road, with a lovely secluded backyard.

For all of these reasons, it's easy for me to forget that the state is jam-packed with people. And these aren't just regular people: they are New Jerseyans.

I was reminded of this fact when I turned up at my local Wegmans Market this afternoon. I needed some groceries for the Thanksgiving feast. It would seem I wasn't alone in this need. Wegmans is my regular market and it's frequently busy. But busy doesn't even begin to describe it today. The aisles were filled with people who were apparently unaware of the universal imperative to stay to the right. At one point, when yet another fellow shopper left their cart in the middle of the aisle while wondering in search of mini-marshmallows, I threatened to have them vaporized. And I must have been loud in my announcement, because JT looked shocked at my bad manners.

I believe that I had released my inner New Jerseyan. Though I've grown quite fond of the state, it's certainly fair to say that Garden Staters are a loud and impatient crew, prone to creative and loud swearing; telling you exactly how they feel and, at times, what they intend to do about it. Traffic brings out their worst.

I can usually zip out of the Wegman's parking lot in 1 minute or less. This afternoon, it took us 20 minutes to get out of the lot and back to the highway. It would be fair to say that my fellow drivers were an aggressively dissatisfied lot of people, most of us armed with tiny frozen cranberries that could reasonably serve as impromptu bullets if it came to that.

I made it home, obviously. JT has retreated upstairs to the playroom where a large-scale Viking invasion is underway. The groceries have been unpacked into the cupboard. And I have settled down with a large glass of wine to soothe my frayed nerves.