As previously mentioned, Husband and I tried shopping together again. I know, I swore we wouldn’t. And we don’t, honestly, for all the reasons you already know about… but this was Costco, and if you’ve ever been then you know that it’s just not possible to do that place alone. Sure, you walk in with a plan and you’re only going to grab bread and canned tomatoes and ground buffalo, but then the guy with the TV’s stops you and he’s not wrong—they’re huge, and the picture quality is amazing, and it wouldn’t hurt to stop and look—but you’re smarter than that so you duck down the nearest aisle and find yourself surrounded by composite flooring samples as far as the eye can see. Where is the food? Miles away, and you’ve still got to get past the piles of books if you want to see produce, so good luck getting out before hunger sets in.
So for Costco we make an exception and go together. We help keep each other on track and on-task. I remind him that we’re not there for new bathroom fixtures and we don’t need 200 lightbulbs, and he distracts me when I suddenly need to know if they’ve still got that thing I saw one time five years ago. But our underlying issues remain, because basic personality traits cannot be checked at the Membership desk.
ME: We need cereal.
HIM: Okay, grab one.
ME: Cinnamon Toast Crunch is on offer… but I should probably make a more grown-up choice.
ME: Cocoa Bunnies!
HIM: That’s the more grown-up choice?
ME: Duh, it’s organic.
HIM: (glances around to be sure no one thinks we’re together)
It’s a little offensive, isn’t it, to be thought of as immature by the man who believes his pirate flag proves he’s a grown-up?
But I can’t argue with him, because I realized that I can just order Count Chocula online again.