JUST A FEW years ago, I thought that having groceries delivered (groceries! delivered!) was the height of yuppie decadence.
But our first Peapod delivery arrived this morning, and, well, my sentiments have undergone so material a change, since the period to which I've alluded, as to make me receive with gratitude and pleasure my seltzer water and Cheerios from the Peapod man.
Instead of spending my precious Sunday afternoon dealing with the frustration and tedium of the grocery store and associated parking lot, I'm heading to Starbucks for a pumpkin spice latte and the New York Times.