The not-so-good-at-grocery-shopping gene was passed down to me through my father. It’s a fact. One Sunday morning after church, my mother was preparing breakfast and requested my father’s help. Could he do a quick errand? Would he mind going to the little store up the street and picking up a coffee cake as a breakfast treat? So, my two siblings and I piled in the car to join our father for an adventure.
Papa did not disappoint. Completing the requested mission, my father proudly displayed the three coffee cakes on the table, while explaining to his bewildered wife, “I just couldn’t decide which one was best.” My siblings and I were thrilled! For some reason though, my mother never again asked my father to go the grocery store for her on a Sunday morning, or, come to think of it, any morning, noon or night.
Yes. I believe this was the incident that shaped my future grocery shopping habits, and understandably, my husband, Bob, has done our grocery shopping for years (21 to be exact.) Yes. I admit, during this global pandemic, it is Bob, not I, who has been schlepping up and down aisle after aisle barely finding his way through the store but not because he doesn’t know where food “stuff” is located. He’s mentioned that he literally can’t see, because, of course, he’s wearing a mask and his glasses keep fogging up!
You may be pondering, “But, if you accompanied Bob, you wouldn’t have the opportunity to buy multiples of anything for the purpose of comparison shopping, right? You and Bob could split up the list and hightail it out of the store in half the time, so it would be safer.”
I see your point, but why would I want to annoy him? (I forgot to tell you about the time I did join my husband on a grocery run. I found a not-so-common item by standing in the condiment aisle and calling out, ‘Worcestershire sauce’ three times, accompanied by the clicking of my heels. Think Dorothy and her ruby slippers.) Anyway, I need the time to mow the lawn, or, if need be, snowplow the driveway.
Chaplain Rodican Rose