The Great Shredded Wheat Quest

You already know that  when HEB stopped carrying Fio's favorite breakfast cereal, Post's Original Spoon-size Shredded Wheat, Fiorella started making regular visits to Target to stock up on her early-morning crack, and she would buy at least four boxes at a time to be sure she didn't run out. (Thus are hoarders born, but that's another story.)  However, when Fio got down to her last box two days ago and Husband tried to replenish the pantry, the shelf at Target was bare.

Panic set in.  If neither HEB nor Target carried Fio's cereal, did that mean Post had stopped making it?  Would Fiorella have to switch off to Cheerios?  Thus when she drove into Austin the next day to meet Friend Joan, her secondary goal was to scout out a  supermarket that might still have a couple of orphan boxes of said Shredded Wheat on its shelves. But HEB drove driven out Albertson's and Randall's years ago so what was left?

WALMART! 

With breath bated, Fio entered WalMart's door, found the breakfast cereal aisle, and walked slowly down it, searching for the familiar bright red boxes.  No luck, no luck, no luck. . . .Was her quest to be in vain?  Would she be deprived of Spoon-size Shredded Wheat forevermore? But no!  Here the boxes were, at the end of the aisle!  Up high, of course, where they always are, but Fio is skilled at establishing a toehold on the bottom shelf and stretching her fingers to tip the boxes off the top shelf onto the floor.  She snagged five whole boxes,and would have grabbed the remaining two if God had just given her longer arms or two more inches in height.

Glowing with triumph, Fio drove home.  Yes, once again, the efforts of Fiorella Plum had saved the universe.  She lugged her paper bag (which cost 10c because the WalMart was in Austin) into the house, dumped the boxes on the kitchen island, and arranged them with military precision so the household males could gaze at her with respect and awe,  .But Fio had to take off for ARWA as Husband came in and before Son arrived.When she returned at about ten, Husband was in bed, but Son awaited her with a sly smile.

"Count your boxes," he said.

Fio complied and discovered that what had been five was now seven.

Son's smile broadened.  "I stopped by Target and they'd restocked."

What a relief!  Fio gets tired of continually having to save the universe.