I made merciless fun of the new Kroger when it first opened. Partly it was because of the full-blown jewelry store up near the pharmacy – I couldn’t imagine a scenario that would cause someone to make use of it: “Honey, we need some Tylenol and oh, what the heck, let’s get married!” And partly it’s because to get to the milk, you have to pass through the furniture aisle. That’s right – furniture in a grocery store.

For some reason, it doesn’t bother me that Walmart sells milk and furniture within close proximity. Because here’s the thinking behind that: “We need a new bookshelf, and, what the heck, we’re out of milk.”

But the other way around? I wasn’t buying it. Until I went to the new Kroger on the day before Thanksgiving. On my way to the milk, there was a big rug for $50 that would cover up nicely the bad patch on the carpet, where Girl yerked and I finished ruining with a do-it-yourself steam cleaning job.

When I came through my back door hauling a big hunk of rug, Bob shouted, “Oh no! You’ve been Krogerized!”

It could have been worse. Much worse. There are rows and rows of colorful pillows back there by the milk, and wouldn’t they look nice on the sofa? There’s a guilty pleasure in getting something you don’t need while you’re on the way to getting something that you really do need. Maybe that’s what Kroger is banking on.

Still, I’m sad to see the old Kroger go, like a sad old dog that has to be put out of its misery. I shopped there one last time yesterday. The little fountain that my kids always begged to throw pennies into is history; same with the mums by the front door. Everything has been stripped down, never to be restocked again. I didn’t realize until yesterday just how scuzzy the place had become. I will miss it, though. I knew the contents of every aisle, and I could get in and out in 30 minutes with everything on my list. And practically nothing that was not.