This is how little sense he makes: he actually believes that grocery shopping is fundamentally different from grocery shopping.
I know, right? I mean… honestly, I deserve some sort of award for putting up with that sort of lunacy day in and day out for as long as I have.
Thankfully I have you, and you agree with me, so that’s alright then.
I see we have some new readers with us today. Doubters. People who haven’t been with us on this long journey and therefore will demand an explanation. Fine, I’ll catch you up. But for the dedicated reader, go ahead and skip to the bottom—I’ll leave something fun down there just for you, since I know you understand me without having to slog through all this.
Right, so there’s this thing ‘round here about how Husband and I cannot go grocery shopping together—if you must know, it’s because he’s boring and forgets to get the things I mentioned even though I told him instead of putting them on the list and he insists I’m too erratic and waste time and money wandering through the aisles buying things we don’t need or have room for and will never use.*
All of this is fine. I mean, it isn’t because he’s wrong and I—as previously stated—am a rockstar at grocery shopping. But we make it work; he runs boring errands that keep me in artichokes and sugary cereal, and I get to wear these like they’re real shoes.
The problem arises in the following scenarios: first, he cannot decide whether his desire to have me always at his side** or his engineerish impulse to take the efficient boring path should rule the day.
HIM: So you want me to run out?
ME: (holding Alexander Hamilton) I can go with you if it would make you less lonely.
ME: Does it make you less lonely when I go in with you?
HIM: Yea—no. Because you get distracted and wander off and then I’m lonely and I’ve lost my wife.
HIM: You have no idea what it’s like, wandering around and not only do I need to find the things but—
ME: I’ve fucked off.
HAMILTON: (cuddles hard, grabbing my shoulder)
ME: You can’t see him, but I’m pretty sure Ham is laughing right now.
The second scenario is the reason we’re here today. Because, as stated… somewhere above, he’s got it in his head that grocery shopping is somehow fundamentally different from any other sort of shopping. Even though I might send him with a list to a clothing store or wherever, in his mind it’s just different.
HIM: (getting dressed, makes face)
ME: Do you want new pants?
ME: (patiently) Okay. Go get new pants then.
HIM: You know I can’t shop!
ME: (puzzled) I do?
HIM: Last time I went shopping for a long sleeved casual shirt I came home with a short sleeved button-down.
ME: Yeah… I’m still not sure how—
HIM: I can’t shop!
I ask you, how can I be expected to reason with someone who thinks like that?
And now, New Reader, you’re all caught up. Welcome to our little club! Please, stick around for cupcakes and wine—I don’t provide them but I heavily encourage overindulgence in both.
Oh, and for the rest of you:
* Which is manifestly untrue; I’ve got more uses for a crock pot than anyone we know and he doubts my ability to find room in our lives for the banana slicer?
** Who could blame him? I’m fucking delightful.