I hate grocery shopping. That's no surprise to anyone in our household where, "When are you going to the store?" is the most common question uttered.
I love it, on occasion, when Kevin makes a grocery run, say 1 or 2 times a year. (He says 3 or 4--and I'm bad with numbers so who knows?) He leaves, and I settle on the sofa, pull out a novel, and wallow in the fact that I'm here, on my comfy sofa, with a lovely book in my hands, and he's milling through aisles and aisles of products that he'll pay through the nose for, products that will evaporate from our shelves in 12 minutes flat.
While I'm lounging in luxury, I always forget what comes next. I don't know why, but I always do.
See, there are certain items I never buy. Never. They are too tempting for my weak self. Oreos. Twinkies. Fritos. Cheetos. Doritos. Any kind of Tos. Hostess cupcakes. Those pink snowball things. Circus Peanuts. Totino's Pizza. Sweedish Fish. The list goes on.
Kevin, not knowing my numerous achilles heels, brings them home, unloads them into our pantry. Then off he goes to work, far away, where he can't see the food, smell the food, or hear the food murmuring sweet nothings, and leaves me to fend off the yummy treats all day. I, with said treats in the house, am like a dog in a room made of peanut butter. I do not win this battle.
So, next time I must get in the car and run the hated errand, I will remember that at least I'll get to choose which foods will be calling my name for the next week. I will win the Hostess battle at the grocery so I don't have to fight the war at home. That is the only way I'll win.
Labels: chores, grocery shopping