Today Chris and I will go grocery shopping together. On occasion we do this, it’s a cheap date and I get to blame someone else when I knock over stuff. I will bring a list that I will half follow and I will bring a huge stack of coupons that I will drop all over the store in confusion. While I try to decide what staples we need, Chris decides the important stuff, like, what kind of dips and chips to buy. I will grab the first milk jug I see, Chris will climb into the fridge, pull out the best dated container and a frightened stock boy.
I will cruise up and down the aisles, like a deranged chipmunk, dodging elderly folks, grabbing what I think we need and tossing it backwards, sometimes even getting the item into our cart. There will always be one item I think we need that we have way too much of already. This time its bread crumbs. I have enough bread crumbs for Hansel and Gretel to not just find their way through the forest but build their own franchise of Fairy Tale Fried Chicken.
Chris will tease me about buying anything that is on sale regardless of whether we need it. I will taunt him for spending ten minutes deciding whether he should get triangle or strip shaped nachos. All the Muzak being played are songs we grew up with and I have no choice but to sing them and dance badly down the lane while Chris pretends he doesn’t know me. I always stop for a bit in the deodorizer aisle. I do not know what my obsession is with scents, but I must look carefully, sniff everything, then pick two or three things while Chris pries my body away from the shelf.
No shopping trip is complete without visiting the clearance racks of course. My husband can scream “botulism” all he wants, but when I see dented canned vegetables for ten cents each I drool. Three day old cupcakes still taste good to me and if we happen to make some penicillin along the way, great! Once we have finished I will scan for a check out register that will be quick and efficient. I will fail. I never seem to read the situation correctly. If the person ahead of me only has four items, they will have ten coupons expiring in four minutes from a same titled store in Poland, they will be paying in pennies from the depths of a wallet and want to discuss last week’s purchase of a whole chicken that contained a beak and a name tag that said, “Hi, I’m Tom! Ask me about double coupon day!”
By the time Chris and I get our turn at the register, we have forgotten why we are here anyway. The cashier cannot figure out how the produce scale works, Chris is trying to find our store card for discounts, the bagger is double bagging a junior toothbrush and I somehow dropped two tons of change across the floor. Chris finds the discount card to every other store but the one we are at, I lose our change to a bunch of aggressive toddlers, our cashier calls a price check on two cucumbers, while scowling at our other purchases (she is really angry at our pot roast, I don’t know why), and the bagger is folding under the pressure of keeping frozens away from cleaners.
When we leave the store, security is leading the crying bagger away, the cashier is growling at the next customer, toddlers are munching on candy bought with my quarters and Chris will suddenly find the discount card. As he loads the bags into the trunk I run the carriage over to the little pen and play a little game of “Crash the Cart”. A great way to get the adrenaline pumping by the way. Its only after we lug all the bags into the house and fight off the children who are trying to chomp through the containers that I will turn to Chris and say, “I forgot to buy anything for lunch. Let’s order out.”