© 2019 Bill Murphy
If Carol and I ever part company, or jugular veins, it’ll not be over money, sex, or family. Nope! It will no doubt be over the infamous shopping list, the fly in our happy ointment. I guess you could say that we can’t see the list for the list.
I’ve learned, through past misadventure, that ‘peanut butter’ means JIFF. Pity the poor soul who brings home anything less. I’ve attempted to explain to my dear wife that there are no massive manufacturing and packing facilities under the KROGER name, where they bottle, can, grow, bake, and build everything from mothballs to baby food. None. Nada. But when we travel, she keeps a keen eye open to find one of these magical, all-purpose facilities. I’d like to seen one too. It must be massive!
In my defense, I’m not psychic – psychotic maybe – but I can’t read minds, nor can I, obviously, read lists, or labels. GRAPES the list says. Yes, I know the difference between grapes and bananas. No problem there. But there are more varieties of grapes in the produce department than commercials on TV. And Kroger purposefully confuses the issue. The ‘white’ ones sure look green to me. The ‘black’ ones look blue. The ‘red’ ones are definitely purple! I have a college DEGREE in art, and I know my colors – just sadly, not my grapes.
I seldom get everything on the list correctly. She lists one way. I list the other. My vain attempts to ‘help out and do my part’ quickly goes to Hellman’s in a hand basket. I can’t understand why we have these demon-list-problems we have. The woman who takes hours to find simple sneakers at the shoe store, can’t understand why I’m in the grocery store 45 minutes and still can’t locate the correct yogurt. (Kroger has more yogurts than grapes!)
Don’t get me started on CEREAL.
Alas… it’s a good thing we’ve ‘matured’ beyond the ‘feminine products’ stage of our lives. That’s one good thing about growing old(er).
Have you seen my list? I’ve lost the list. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…