I fear but three things in this world: women of obscene physical strength, Dallas Cowboys… I fear but three things in this world: women of obscene physical strength, Dallas Cowboys head coach Bill Parcells and grocery shopping.

I haven’t had too much trouble avoiding the first two, but as I’ve been living in my own apartment this year, grocery shopping is something I’ve had to confront. And to my credit, I’ve done it — twice, in fact. But as I’m consistently unwilling to drag myself to the grocery store, I haven’t consumed anything for the past two months except bottled Yuengling and store-brand, fat-free pineapple yogurt.

According to many, many people, most of whom are my friend Meg, there’s a certain method to grocery shopping that’s supposed to make it quick and easy.

“I make a list,” she says. “I go to the stores that I think will best supply the items on my list, and then I buy them.”

She buys the stores?

“The items, Matt. I buy the items. If I want to get something that’s alive, like seafood, I pick that out last. It’s definitely best to get the non-perishables first.”

But if you get things in a specific order, wouldn’t that require knowing the layout of the store you’re going to? I’m sure it would help.

So there is a quick and easy method to grocery shopping; however, this requires not only knowing what you need, but also at least some knowledge of the market’s layout, if you wish to get your shopping done in a fast and efficient manner. And I’m told that the first of these problems is solved by taking a basic inventory of food in my apartment, and using my findings to compose a list.

This involves tasks like smelling the milk to see if it’s spoiled, examining the color and odor of assorted meats and cheeses and calculating the ratio of full beer bottles to empty ones on my kitchen counter. Right. Like I have that kind of time.

So the idea of making a shopping list is out the window, and I’m more than fine with that. On the other hand, when I do go shopping, I end up wandering the aisles with neither aim nor purpose, picking up both things I think I might need (bread, milk, eggs) and items I discover, and am immediately intrigued by (designer peanut butter, a can of chicory, pasta shaped like a specific species of bearcat from southeast Asia).

And because I’ve no method to the madness of buying food, I get easily disoriented. This often leads to waking up in my apartment the following morning, dazed, with nothing more than a 20 oz. bottle of Sprite Remix and two pounds of Beluga caviar. Supermarkets are just that intimidating.

This often leads me to take advantage of a meal option many other students don’t have — I get in my car, drive home and eat dinner with my family. I’ve become way too dependent on this option as of late, since I haven’t gone grocery shopping in more than two months, and I’ve greatly come to enjoy the conversation that accompanies dinner with my family. Topics range from, “Tiger Woods isn’t winning, because he’s nailing that blonde,” to, “after the meal, let’s randomly rearrange the furniture in a manner confusing to your father.” And I get a well-cooked meal to boot.

I look forward to one day being able to walk into a local supermarket, and know exactly where the thyme and the frozen shrimp are kept, but for now, at least during finals week, I embrace both my fear of shopping, and my willingness to leech off my family two nights a week, and dine on saltines the other five.

Matt Wein is also afraid of fear itself, fanatical devotion to Hugh Grant and spiders. E-mail him your fears at [email protected].