Two nights ago I had a restless and uneasy sleep with some strange dreams. One of the dreams, the one I had right before my alarm went off, was about my quest to find a coffee grinder. I woke up moments before I was able to get my hands on one. It seemed pointless at first, but I spent most of yesterday contemplating how my life would change if I completed the quest. According to the dream, this item was the one thing keeping me from being able to use the bag of flaxseed I’ve had for a year, and the reason my home brew coffee is simply adequate, not great. Yoga class las night was a bust, because all I could think about was where I would get my grinder and what I would do with it. Was it worth it to drive all the way to the other side of town to go to Target? Should I just try the K-Mart near me first? Maybe even the grocery store with its odd only-in-suburbia aisles of non-food products? My obsession grew, and as I completely toppled out of my warrior three pose, I decided that if I ever want to achieve inner peace, I’d have to quench this yearning for a specific small kitchen appliance.

It didn’t seem worth it to waste the gas driving across town, so I decided to brave K-Mart, the saddest box store in the country. I’m amazed that any locations are still business at all, especially with the competition of Target and Wal-mart. Furthermore, I’m deeply mystified that of all the K-Marts that closed in the past decade, why the one in my town made the cut. Even the parking lot is downtrodden and in grave need of upkeep. The parking space lines haven’t been re-painted in about ten years, and even if they had, I don’t see know how the paint would stick to the loose gravel in the pie-sized potholes. Inside, the K-Mart smells like formaldehyde, fake leather, and cholesterol. (I was the thinnest person in there by 50 pounds, and that’s saying something.) Little kids run unsupervised everywhere, and other than that, you get the distinct feeling that nothing organic or alive has ever entered the building and left without completely wilting.

Long story short, I made a beeline for the appliance section, found the cheapest coffee grinder up there, and walked to the checkout fantasizing about the freshly ground coffee and the usable flaxseed that will bring me one step closer to nirvana or capitalism. The woman at the checkout, who looked like she hadn’t washed her hair in days, but still had painted fingernails so long she couldn’t type normally, offered to sell me a $2.99 warranty for my $12.99 coffee grinder. I thought it a wise move to reject the offer, even though a quick glance around the store stirred my desire to donate the money as charity because it seemed that K-Mart needed it more than I did.

Last night, I had restless and uneasy dreams again, but when I finally got up this morning, there was a shiny new coffee grinder in my kitchen, and at lunch today, I will have ground flaxseed (mixed with walnuts, cinnamon and brown sugar) in my peanut butter sandwich. Mmmmm… Omega three.