I’m the worst shopper. Even when I make a list, I get lost in the middle of the store and forget it. I take time outs, unforeseen left turns, and have anxiety attack buys that usually involve chocolate, Oreos, and potato chips.
You’d think I’d get my shit together when we’re supposed to going to the store once a week, maybe–you’d think that, right?
Mate and I take turns, because, frankly, looking at the vast wasteland that used to be the paper products department freaks us both the fuck out. Yeah, for some people it’s watching the news–for us it’s NOT SEEING ANY TOILET PAPER. Still. Can you sense my hands trembling? It happens.
So, when I send Mate into the store (it’s usually after we take the dogs on our nature walk) I send him with a list. He adheres to the list. He does not take unforeseen left turns or have anxiety attacks that involve sugar. The list is law.
And then I go into the supermarket–a flowered scarf wrapped around my face so I look like the Nana Bandit–and come back with a surprising amount of food (much of it on sale and unwholesome) and we have the following conversation:
“Yeah– there was no toilet paper so I got Oreos and Doritos instead.”
*sage nodding* “Of course you did. Didn’t I just buy soda?”
“Yes, but this was ON SALE.”
*more sage nodding* “Of course it was.”
“Anyway, I got ham.”
“Good choice for Easter.”
“And mashed potatoes and green beans.”
“And three pounds of butter.”
*slow blink* “Sure.”
“We were running out.”
“We only had a pound left. You’re so right.”
“So, anyway. I think we’re good. We don’t have to go back for a week.”
And six hours later, as we are both sitting, watching television, the following happens:
“GODDAMNED WHIPPED CREAM!”
*deep breath* “Well, there’s always tomorrow.”